Hovercraft
by xiluvrock145
Summary: I was not always a lonely redheaded Avox, you know. I actually had a life before the dreadful time my friend Andrew and I tried to escape to freedom. Here is my fasicnating yet alarming story. You must hear of it, before it is lost to the ages.
1. Chapter 1: Carrie

**A/N: Hey everyone, this is my first ever THG fanfic, and I wrote it about the redheaded Avox girl. I've always wondered about her past, and where she was going when she was caught. Enjoy and please review if you can!**

**I do not own The Hunger Games or anything relating to them, no matter how much I wish I did. This a work of fiction and I only own the writing. ;)**

Chapter 1: Carrie

I am woken by the argument between my mother and my older sister Rheah in the early hours of light. From what I can tell, my mother is angry at Rheah for staying too late at a party last night and Rheah is simply countering her yells with short, witty replies.

This is normal for my sister. While I am at home sleeping peacefully, she is always out at some party going wild. It serves my mother right for giving birth to two daughters that are complete opposites.

I throw back my covers and shuffle myself through the steps of my morning routine: brush my unruly red locks, get dressed, and wash my face. By the time I am done, it is nearly eight am. I am going to be late.

As I walk into the kitchen to order breakfast from our live-in worker Waldo, my eyes linger on my father, who is currently sitting at the head of the dining table and reading _The Capitol Times_, our daily newspaper. My mother and Rheah are still going at it strongly. Waldo serves me a huge platter of meat and fruit, and I begin to dig in.

My name is Carrie Strikethrough, and I live in the shining Capitol in the country of Panem. I have no problems at all. My family is richer than you will ever dream of being. We live in a gigantic mansion with many people working under us. My father is a Gamemaker and makes thousands each year from killing filthy children from those stupid districts that surround my city. I am lucky.

I guess you could even say that I have a boyfriend. Sort of.

It is eight-fifteen now. I shovel the last of my chicken into my mouth and throw the plate into Waldo's waiting hands. I also take the limited time I have to quickly say goodbye to my family.

"Bye, Mother," I say, kissing her left cheek lightly.

My mother turns away from Rheah for a minute to hug me. She is a stunning sight. Rumor has it that many men wanted to marry her, but she chose my father over them all. My father is terrible. I can't believe what's wrong with her. What makes him so special?

"Goodbye, sweetie. Have fun at school today." Her shining hazel eyes almost seem to glow at me. Rheah did not inherit those eyes like I did.

"Thanks," I call over my shoulder as I fly out the door.

The hustle and rush of the Capitol fills my ears as I walk towards my school. It is a beautiful place, no doubt about it. Tall, winding skyscrapers tower mightily over me as I walk briskly on my way. I decide to stop briefly at a vendor's stand to buy a freshly baked pretzel. I can split it with Andrew later.

"Hey, Carrie." A tall brunet boy with dark green eyes (obviously surgically colored) stops me near Sixth Street. I don't recognize him, but I'll bet you anything he's in my year at school. He's holding a leather wallet and staring at me like I'm a triple-layer chocolate cake.

I shift my feet uncomfortably. This is normal. I don't understand why I'm stopped so often on the street. Rheah says it's because I'm pretty, but I know the truth. I'm uglier than a racked-up tribute from District Twelve.

"Hey," I give the mystery boy a slight wave, trying to give him total eye contact. Rheah says that it's the best way to get someone to ignore you.

"So, um, Carrie, I was, uh, wondering if you'd like to, uh, go with me to that new restaurant down on Glow Street, um, next Friday." The boy is turning pinker by the second.

I roll my eyes. I am also used to boys hitting on me. Even strange ones that I'm not quite sure about like this one.

"No, sorry, I think I'm busy Friday. Maybe another time . . . ?" I trail off in what I hope is a rueful tone.

"Oh, uh, that's alright." The boy sheepishly turns away and starts walking quickly across the street to Rusty Rendezvous, the Capitol's ultimate dance club. He's obviously trying to cover for getting rejected. By me.

I snort. I wouldn't want to go out with that boy anyway. He's a skipper. I would never, ever, skip school like that. I actually like school. I try hard to be a good girl. I don't like disappointing people.

I continue walking, clutching my soft, buttery pretzel to my chest. _Only two more blocks_, I tell myself. _Only two more._

Finally, I am here. A huge, ancient building which Andrew Tassle's father owns. I grin like an idiot as I race up the steps to Andrew's house. His family rents most of the building to others, but they live on the first and second floors.

The Tassles' maid, Iya, answers the door and ushers me inside quickly. I nod a small hello to her before racing to the staircase by the center of the room. But before I can place a foot on the first stair, a warm hand touches my arm and causes me to spin around.

"Hello, Carrie." The light, swooping voice of Andrew Tassle's mother, Mrs. Tassle, greets me warmly.

"Oh, hi, Mrs. T," I grin as I hug her in greeting. "Where's Mr. T?"

"He already left for work," she says.

Mr. Tassle is also a Gamemaker like my father. Being a Gamemaker is one of the highest position of power in the Capitol, because the annual Hunger Games are one of the most anticipated events of the year.

Anyway, because of our parents' status, we're so filthy rich, we need a whole room in our house to put our money in. Not kidding.

Mrs. T runs her smooth, wrinkle-free fingers through my hair. Her skin shows that she's never had to work a day in her life. My mother's fingers look quite different. Growing up in one of the poorer sections of the Capitol, my mother was nearly starving until she met my father.

"Carrie, darling, I absolutely love your hair today!" she squeals like a little girl, instead of the grown woman she is. "How do you get it to be such a vibrant shade?"

I blush and look down at my strappy heels, the ones I had selfishly begged my father to spend half his paycheck on last month. "It's naturally like that," I whisper, embarrassed over the attention I was drawing from her.

Mrs. T simply shakes her head and gives me a sad smile. "I bet boys are lining up around your block to ask you out. You're so fortunate."

I think back to the unfamiliar brunet boy on Sixth and my frown grows deeper. _You have no idea, Mrs. T_, I think. _So I've been told._

I decide to change the subject. "Where's Andrew?"

"Oh, he's upstairs in his room. I think he's --- " But I'm already dashing up the stairs, two at a time, my heels clacking against the wooded panels.

Okay, I admit it. I don't like talking about my beauty. I also don't know where all my phenotype genes came from. I'm too young to have body surgery done on me and Rheah isn't nearly as pretty as I am.

My father is handsome, as Capitol citizens go, but it's mostly all thanks to the genetic surgery that we perform here in the city. My mother, growing up in what's called the Seam of the Capitol, has limited natural beauty. But, sadly, that was all taken away when the surgery was done. She now looks normal, as we are here. She was prettier once. Or so I am told, by Rheah.

I reach the landing quickly and lightly tap on the second door on the right, which I know is Andrew's room. Tapping my foot impatiently, I wait an agonizing ten seconds until the door swings creakily open.

Andrew is standing there with open arms, waiting for me. The smile on his face is not fake, I can tell. He's genuinely glad to see me.

Andy and I met about four years ago, when we were both just twelve years old and starting school together. The minutes we met in the courtyard, we became close friends. I had been running around the campus looking for the math room, when Andrew ran into me. After all the apologies and whatnot, he had helped me find the classroom, because that was where he was headed that day as well. We've been best friends since.

But lately, I've been starting to feel something more for Andy. It is a feeling I cannot explain properly. All I know is that when ever I see his beautiful blue eyes and dirty blond hair, I want to cry. He makes me feel safe. Good and safe, forever.

Anyway, I'm glad to see him today too. The intoxicating smell of his signature peppermint cologne is making me woozy though, so I step back and peer up into his face. He has a good three or four inches on me, and I'm pretty tall for my age.

"Ready to go?" he smiles at me as he adjusts the strap on his school backpack.

"Yup." I spin around and run back down the stairs as quick as I can, like a bullet, daring him to catch up with me.

As we walk out of the building, a flash blinds my vision for a millisecond near the bushes. I blink several times and stare at the shrubbery again, but the flash is gone as fast as it came. Was it a hidden camera or what? I am confused. I'm not famous really, and neither is Andrew. Who would want our picture?

_Whatever_, I think as Andy and I walk arm in arm up the path to the main road, and continue on to our school. It doesn't matter what that flash was, because I am happy right now and that's all that really matters.

Yeah, that's right. _Whatever._


	2. Chapter 2: Andrew

**A/N: I didn't expect any reviews, since this is my first story ever, but I got one review from ****abelon****, so shout-out to him/her. Also shout-out to my friend Talita, who has been reading my story anonymously. **

**This chapter is from Andrew's POV. I hope I clear out any questions you might have had from the first chapter. This is not a one-shot; it's a real story. Enjoy. ;)**

Chapter 2: Andrew

It's a normal, clear, Thursday morning. The sun is shining in the sky and the screams of the Capitol citizens is filling my ears, making me happy to be alive.

However, all is not well. And I may be the only one who knows why.

I couldn't help it, of course. It was, undeniably, the stupidest thing that I have ever done.

But worst of all, Carrie is going to have to pay for it just as much as I will.

These thoughts continue to run through my brain as Carrie I walk to school together. My backpack is heavy with unfinished homework and I forgot to take a shower this morning, since I was so stressed out over with I did.

It's still a beautiful morning though. Nothing, really, can change that. The Capitol controls the weather. If they knew what I did, though, it would be pouring buckets of rain right now. So obviously, they don't know. Yet.

Carrie comes to a slow stop all of a sudden. When I look up, I realize why. The building in which out fathers work in is standing right in front of us. Carrie fakes a smile and waves cheerily up to the tenth story, where her father is sitting right now, probably planning next year's reapings. Of course, he can't see her wave up at him, but I know why she did it.

Carrie doesn't really like either of her parents that much. I think she has a soft spot for her live-in worker, Waldo, thought I can't understand why. She also claims to love her older sister more than anything. But I know how terribly spoiled she is, spending money this way and that, like a regular Capitol person.

Look at her now! She is walking down the sidewalk with one hand in her designer Capitol purse and the other running through her hair. Speaking of which, her hair frames her upper body perfectly, like a model. It's slightly wavy and a lavish, rich reddish color, the only color we Capitol citizens claim is exquisite enough to keep. She's beautiful, and yet she has a touch of rebel in her.

I know I'm insane. Maybe it's all the java I drank last night. Or maybe my mother's whimsical thoughts are finally rubbing off on me. Whatever it is, I know this: She would never like me. I'm just her friend. Andrew Tassle. Class nobody.

Anyway, remember the terrible thing I have done? Yes, about that. I guess I might as well say what it is.

It all started, oh, about a few weeks ago after my sixteenth birthday. You see, what I really wanted as a gift was a new, high tech, state of the art laptop that I could use to email Carrie my other friends. Which I got. Currently it is sitting on my bed back in my room, on stand by.

My father, however, thought that wasn't a gift. Being my parents' only child, I admit that I am a bit spoiled as well. Growing up as Gamemaker's child doesn't exactly help tip the scale either. For my sixteenth birthday, my father wanted me to go on a simulated tour of last year's Hunger Games, which happened to be the Seventy-First Annual Games.

Let me repeat: It was all my father's idea. I guess he had wanted me to see how it's like for the tributes in the arena. At first I was like, _Okay, why the hell do I care about 23 bloody dead children?_ But then, I began to think a little more about it and I finally decided I should go. I mean, it wasn't like I had that many better things to do on my birthday, right?

I decided that I didn't want to go alone though, I so invited Carrie to tag along. Fortunately, though, she had had a manicure that day. I say it was fortunate because if she'd seen the horrors of the arena like I did, she'd have died from the shock. Carrie Strikethrough does not realize how lucky we are to live in the Capitol. Safe from the Games.

It's not like I have never watched the Games. Of course I did. A few years ago, Carrie and I watched them together. But it wasn't the same. Being in a simulation is completely different than just watching something. Holding a weapon in your hands is different than just hearing it be depicted. Watching someone you love become lost is different than just feeling a stab in your heart.

The Seventy-First Hunger Games last year took place in an arena with no wood. Most of the tributes just froze to death because they couldn't construct a fire to keep themselves warm. I remember one boy, I think from District 5, was so desperate to build a fire that he nearly blew the whole arena up by causing an avalanche. It was a deathly sight to re-experience.

Seeing the exact spots where the deaths had occurred and the exact weapons that were used to murder changed me. I couldn't believe that we're _that_ cruel. Killing 23 innocent children each year. It amazes me how it is done.

I'm not sure precisely what made me change me mind about the Games. Maybe it was meeting the victor from that year, the fifteen-year-old girl tribute from District 8, Semma. No one expected her to win, at all. District 8 may not be one of the poorest districts in Panem, but it's not the best either.

All I know now is that my actions are reckless and amiss.

I guess the tour made me do what I did later. I sat down at my new laptop and typed up a full letter to President Snow. Complaining about the Games. Signed it with my name and Carrie's. Then I stuck it in an envelope and shoved it in the mail yesterday.

And now, because of my thoughtless actions, Carrie and I are both, well, as dead as tributes.

My mind has started to wander again, I realize, as I walk straight into a telephone pole. Carrie begins to laugh and calls me a pretty rude name. I work to straighten myself as Carrie grabs my arm to help me.

"Hey," she says, ceasing her laughter. "I'm sorry. Here. Have some pretzel."

I take half of the buttery pretzel she is offering me and nod a small thanks. As I take a tentative bite into it, I hope she knows that it may be one of the last food items she may ever eat in the Capitol at least for a while.

We will have to run away.

Where? Well, any place except here. I'm getting sick of this high-rise, futuristic city anyway. Besides, if we don't leave soon, we'll both be dead. Executed for inciting a rebellion, protesting against the Capitol, etc.

Speaking about rebels, the Capitol hates them. In fact, it was because of a rebellion over seventy years ago that the Hunger Games were initiated. A rebellion that must never be repeated. Ever again.

I've already started planning our escape, packing everything that's important to me. Carrie is included.

I know the journey will be different for both of us. We're not used to hunting for our food or being in danger. That's something only the tributes know. But before I mailed the letter, I took a few archery lessons. I'm absolutely terrible at it. Still, it's better than nothing. Teaching Carrie will pose a problem, though.

_Argh_, I think. We're running out of time. Snow will probably get the letter by tomorrow. I have to get her to leave by tomorrow night, at the latest.

I look over at Carrie. She is looking up at me curiously. _Uh oh, _I think. _She must have realized my mind is wandering._

"Andrew?" Carrie stops suddenly. "What's wrong with you?"

Crap! She found out! My life is officially over. I've never been good at hiding my emotions, sadly. It's a bruising trait for a boy. I'd never be a good contender in the Games. I'd be unable to win over sponsors.

"Nothing, Carrie," I say. Hopefully, she won't sense the slight cracking in my voice. I hate my flaws.

There's no point in really telling her now. She'd only get mad and insist on staying, even if it means death.

Carrie grins and continues skipping along. She has no idea about so many things. The letter. Surviving on your own. How much I love her.

Unfortunately for both of us, I don't love her enough to tell her what I have done. That's my second mistake.

After, of course, writing the damn letter in the first place. My life, in a word, sucks.

"Andy," Carrie calls out in a chirpy tone, after tapping my shoulder. "We're here. At school."

I sigh and slowly follow my best friend into the school. Here we go. Day one of my new life.

**Review? :D**


	3. Chapter 3: Carrie

**A/N: I really hope the only reason no one's reviewing is because this is my first fanfic. 'Cause I think the idea for it is pretty darn good.**

**I don't really have anything else to say right now. Thanks if you're reading this.**

Chapter 3: Carrie

Andrew and I are just sitting down in our seats when the bell rings and in walks our homeroom teacher Mr. Goldscreen.

Mr. Goldscreen is a sort of obtuse man, with freakishly dyed neon yellow hair and funky rimmed glasses. Usually, though, he's nice enough to me. I try to stay on his good side.

Right now, Mr. Goldscreen is giving me a freaky glare as I copy down the assignment on my SmartBoard, a hovering erasable board we are expected to do our work on. The glare is beginning to frighten me, so I turn to Andy.

"Andrew?" I whisper quietly, so the other students will not overhear.

"Hm?" Andy stops writing and turns to grin at me. When he sees the expression on my flawless face, his eyes widen. "Carrie? What's wrong?"

I don't get scared easily. I've always been a strong girl, maybe even strong enough to win one of the Games. One time, I rescued a spider in Rheah's room after she screamed at it practically loud enough to break the sound barrier.

"Oh, please," I muttered, as I scooped up the frightened spider in a jar and threw it outside into the bushes.

Rheah, who was sixteen at the time, my current age, had let out a deep sigh of relief and gone back to applying her makeup for whatever social event was that night.

But now, as Mr. Goldscreen sends me rays of death across the room, I feel like I'm sure that unfortunate spider felt when it wandered unknowingly into Rheah's room and became a subject of her screams. I can feel my hand beginning to tremble. _What did I do? _I wonder.

"Carrie!" By now, Andy has turned to face me and is shaking my arm senseless.

"Look," I whisper, turning to him. "He's staring right at me."

Andy turns pale as he catches Mr. G's glare as well. "Oh my gosh, what did you do?"

"Me?" I shriek. Luckily my classmates are still talking up a storm, so their conversations cover my voice. "How is this my fault, Andrew? He's staring at you too!"

Andy looks just about ready to pass out. His SmartBoard has auto-turned itself off and laying on his desk sadly. Something about this strange, Capitol-programmed event has jolted me awake to my senses.

It is about now when I realize something is terribly, well, screwed.

"Carrie Strikethrough. Andrew Tassle." Mr. Goldscreen's robotic voice echoes around the classroom, which for some reason has gone deadly silent all of a sudden. "Something unplanned and bewildering has come up. The principal will see you two now."

* * *

_Why? _I continue to ask myself as Andrew and I are led down the hallway by an Avox boy to Principal Rain's office. I cannot imagine what I have done wrong. Sure, I'm not exactly a good example of an innocent and harmless Capitol citizen, but nothing I have ever done would allow me to see this as the result.

I look over at Andy to see that his face and emotionless eyes are still. Yet something about the way he is fidgeting with the ends of the tie on his school uniform is irritating me. Something is not right. Something about him is wrong.

In a flash, I surprise even myself by turning and pinning Andy against the nearest wall, inches from a classroom door. My reflection bounces back at me in his eyes, and I catch a glimpse at how wild I am.

I don't get why I am so upset all of a sudden. Maybe I am getting all worked up over nothing whatsoever. But ever since the weird boy at Rusty Rendezvous this morning (I finally managed to remember his name; it's Jesse), I am having the most unexpected and eventful day of my life.

"What. Did. You. Do." My voice pierces the air around us. I am certain that Andy has done something quite illegal, enough to upset the Capitol itself. The school is showing mercy on us by letting us see Principal Rain first.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Carrie," Andrew gets out. His voice, in contrast, is small and weak compared to mine. It's a bit dippy and stutters slightly on my name, though, and my suspicions are confirmed.

I smile with a bit of pity. "Oh, Andrew. You're going to know when I'm done with you, honey." I say this, of course, jokingly, because I would never hurt Andy.

Andy puts his hands up. "I swear to the Capitol, I didn't do anything Carrie."

"Oh yeah?" My fingers are stiffening. "Prove it."

Andrew Tassle flings forward out of my grasp. I hear the alarms go off as he runs down the stairs and out the front doors.

In my shock, I find myself wildly spinning until I come eye to eye with the Avox boy who was escorting us to Principal Rain's office. When I pinned Andy against the wall, I guess he backed up a bit to show he was not involved. Who the hell would blame an Avox, anyway?

He suddenly lifts his index fingers to form an 'X' at me, while making a deep frown on his mute lips. He can't be that much older than me, maybe about Rheah's age. But with this gesture, I feel small and inferior, stupid in the sea of knowledge compared to him.

It is as if he is reading my future, seeing me in a new light.

* * *

I am grounded. For what? Apparently 'skipping school' to chase after Andrew, which didn't work out because turns out he ran all the way back to his house. How long? If I'm lucky it may only be for the rest of my life. Fortunately, I think Andy is grounded too. That boy is going to be sorry.

As well as being grounded for life, I'm also suspended for the next three days, for 'unsatisfactorily disobeying unequivocal directions and breaking free of school property without ample permission'. Whatever the hell _that_ means. I skipped, chased Andrew, and am now suspended. Nice, huh?

I still know he did something. I have no idea why I am getting blamed, though. Maybe it's because I'm practically his sister. We are twins. Joined at the brain.

Oh, great, here I go again with Andrew and my feelings about him. _Get a freaking grip, Carrie,_ I tell myself.

To get my mind off the subject of Andrew, I decide to call my friend Lativa on my cell phone. Lativa and I haven't been friends as long as Andy and I have, but she's one of my other friends that I feel actually likes me for me, not because my father is a Gamemaker.

My fingers reach hungrily for my cell phone that is sitting on my beside table and automatically flip it open and begin pressing the buttons on the keypad.

My phone is a necessity. It means the world to me, even more than Andrew does. Crap, did I just say that? Anyway, Lativa tells me that in most of the poorer districts, like 10; 11; and 12, most people have never even used a phone. The idea makes me laugh. The people in the districts are even more inexperienced than I thought.

Lativa doesn't answer the phone though when my call goes through. Her voicemail doesn't even pick up. That's strange. What's going on?

"Hello?"

I nearly choke as my mind registers the voice on the other end. Andrew.

"Oh, it's you, Carrie," Andrew realizes in a flat tone. "I was wondering when you'd finally call to apologize."

A line of profanities escapes through my lips before I can stop it. I must've subconsciously dialed Andy's number instead of Lativa's. It's not surprising at all, though. Andrew _is_ the person I call the most.

I can practically see Andrew's blond eyebrows go up. I almost never use foul language, you know, because of the whole 'good girl' thing.

"Whoa there, Car," he says. "No need to get all feisty."

I can't help but laugh. In less than a minute, all my fears have melted and Andy making me smile again. It makes my laugh harder when I realize he called me Car.

My real name is Carolina, which was shortened to Carrie, then now to Car. Ah, well, Andrew will always be just Andy to me.

My father chose my name the day he found out my mother was pregnant with me. When I was about twelve, I asked him why I have such a strange name. I was thinking at the time, _What the hell is a Carolina?_

It was then I discovered that I was named after a state.

"A state?" I remember also how foreign the word had felt on my tongue. "Father, what is a state?"

My father bit his lip. "Well, dear, back before Panem rose from the ashes of North America, the land was divided into little sections called states."

My eyes widened in understanding. "Oh, like the districts, right?"

"Right." My father nodded. "And one of these states was called Carolina. Actually two states. North and South Carolina."

Huh. So, there were 'states' before Panem. How interesting.

"Father, how many states were there in total?" I blinked.

My father shook his head in answer. "No one remembers, Carrie. No one knows exactly what happened. It was never recorded, or all the records were destroyed. Forever."

* * *

Andrew goes on to describe the look on his mother's face when he came home from school that day, holding the notice of suspension. It is all I can do not to choke on my tears of laughter.

"I swear, Carrie, she looked like a tribute in the arena who just got jumped or something," Andrew says.

"Andrew, stop it!" I beg. "If I laugh any louder, Rheah is going to come in here and tell me to shut up. Only not quite that nicely."

"Okay, okay."

Our chuckles fade slowly away into the damp yet pleasant air. The sun is setting and in front of me sits a pile of untouched homework. From two nights ago.

"Carrie." His voice is so quiet that, at first, I'm sure I imagined it.

"Yes?"

"I did it. Whatever you're accusing me of. I'm really sorry; I swear, I'm such a liar, please forgive me, Carrie, I love you."

"What?" I only heard about the last phrase of that.

"I said I'm sorry I got you in trouble; it was pretty stupid of me - "

"No, Andrew, after that." I let out a slight cough before going on. "Did you just say that you love me?"

Silence There is pure silence now on the other end of the line. I am slowly turning blue from holding my breath, waiting for his answer.

"Um, I meant that I love you like a friend, or maybe like a little sister, you know?" Andrew says.

With those words my heart drops. So he only thinks of me as a little sister? How sufficient for him. Can he really not see that I love him way more than that?

"Oh," I say in what I hope in an indifferent tone.

"So, um, do you forgive me? I'm sorry; it was just some weird - "

I cut him off. It doesn't matter what he's about to say anymore. "No, no it's alright. I forgive you. Love you. As a friend, of course. Good night."

_Click._

With a final throw of my phone across the room so it lands who knows where, I hurl myself into my comforting sheets. In just a few seconds, I feel a lone teardrop starting the journey down from my eyes onto my cheek.

Lonely, cold, and confused out of its mind.

Just like me.


	4. Chapter 4: Andrew

**A/N: I already know how this story is going to end, even though I'm not planning to end it for a while. Sad, huh? :)**

Chapter 4: Andrew

As soon as I hear the click on the phone and the following dial tone, I put my phone back in its place on my dresser. I stare uncomprehendingly at the bright navy walls of my room, thinking.

I just lied through my teeth to my best friend.

Wow. I am such a coward. Any other boy would have admitted the truth, right? Well, maybe they would not have. If Carrie hadn't said that she feels the same way about me, our friendship would have been totally awkward from here on out. And I swear that I'll never let that happen to us.

See? Look. Even the word awkward looks awkward. Ha.

I can feel my palms starting to sweat as the seconds tick by. The guilt of everything I've done so far is starting to come back to haunt me. There must be something in the water.

I have to tell her. Soon.

* * *

The next day, which is Friday, since Carrie and I are both suspended from school and grounded in our rooms, I'm crushed. How will I be able to tell Carrie everything now?

About the letter and running away from here, of course. I'm still too much of a spineless coward to tell her that I love her. The time will come soon though. Once we are free, we can do whatever we want.

I finally come up with four courses of action: 1) stay here in my room and cry, 2) call my other friends, 3) wait for death, or 4) sneak out to see Carrie.

My face lights up in a grin as I think of the fourth option. Why didn't I plan this before? It's perfect. I'll climb out my window, scale down our wall to the ground, and catch a cab to Carrie's mansion.

As long as I don't get caught, everything will be just fine.

* * *

Or not.

Here I am, in Carrie's front yard, hiding in a ring of topiary. I'm sitting feet away from her window, but I'm faced with a huge problem: I have no idea how to start.

I'm serious. If I start by talking about my tour/simulation, Carrie will fall asleep. If I start with asking her if she's ever considered running away, she'll just go, "Oh, hell no, Andrew."

Carrie. She is basically the only human I care more about than me. Sometimes, I believe I care more about her than myself, in fact. And ever second I am wasting by sitting here and thinking about what I should do is hurting her even more.

"Andrew?"

My blood freezes. I'd know that voice anywhere. When I first heard it, I was a small twelve-year-old just trying to fit in my new school. I've spent more hours with the owner of that voice than I've spent with my own family. That voice has helped me get through so many things, and I've helped the voice's owner numerous times as well.

I turn around slowly and reluctantly meet the warm, hazel eyes of Carrie Strikethrough.

"Andrew, what the _hell_ are you doing here?" Carrie kneels down in the dirt next to me and lightly touches my knee. Even through her tone is mad, she's all gentleness.

"Nothing," I mutter to myself.

Carrie crosses her arms over her chest. "I saw someone sitting here, so I came out to investigate. Who else would be sitting out here in the middle of the day, hiding in the bushes? Aren't you grounded, too?"

I force myself to acknowledge her. "I snuck out. I need to talk to you."

Carrie rolls her eyes at the golden sky. "You know that there is such thing as a cell phone right?" She holds up hers as if to prove her point.

I am about to respond to her by saying that it needs to be discussed in person when I notice that her eyes are surrounded in a couple layers of cosmetics. Carrie never wears makeup. If I wanted to learn how to apply blush properly, I would've befriended Carrie's girly older sister, Rheah. Therefore, there's only one other possible explanation.

"Hey have you been crying?" I wonder.

Carrie stops smiling. "No."

"Yes, you have," I frown knowingly. "Listen, if it's about what happened yesterday in school, I'm really sorry. I know how much school means to you. That's one of the reasons I came here. I have to tell you what I did."

Carrie slumps down, as if she knows that she's defeated. "Andy, it's not about that. It's . . . it's about what you said last night. On the phone. About loving me as a friend."

My mouth drops open in shock.

Carrie wipes a drip of mascara from her eye and curses quietly. She puts on a sad smile. "Look, it's alright. I know you don't love me back the way I love you. But it's alright." She looks back up at me, almost expectantly. "Now, what were you going to tell me?"

Car has taken the breath right out of my body. Her confession has left me absolutely speechless. How could she have known?

"You're right Carrie," I whisper. "I don't love you back the way you love me."

Carrie is still smiling. "I know. Now can we please get on with whatever you were going to say?"

I shake my head. "No. You don't understand. I love you a thousand times more. I've loved you ever since we met, four years ago. I've been a coward for not telling you earlier."

"What?" Carrie whispers in a hoarse voice, dropping her phone in the dirt. "You can't be serious."

"I am," I say in a giddy voice. "I can't believe I finally told you. I feel so free!"

Carrie laughs at my reaction and leans against my shoulder. "Well, I guess I'm glad too. Come on, why don't we go get something to eat?"

I smile down at her red hair and wrap my arm protectively around her. "I can't think of anything I'd like to do better."

* * *

This is the first time ever that I'm grateful for my father's position of power and his money. I'm easily able to scrape enough to treat Carrie and me to a single smoothie at Elegance, the most expensive smoothie shop in the Capitol.

Carrie and I are sitting at a double booth near the entrance and slowly trying to finish the rich drink. Any fear of being caught, both of rebellion (my letter) or sneaking out (our being grounded), has dissipated so we are able to hold hands and enjoy our small snack.

I have not been able to wipe the idiotic grin off Carrie's face since we left the topiary. I watch her as she gulps down half the Orange Splash in a few seconds, then pushes the glass over to me.

"Here you go," she says, wiping her mouth with her hand. It is quite unladylike, if I do say so myself. But I love it.

I have to laugh when I see how she also immediately tries to wipe her hand on my jeans when I'm not looking. It leaves a small trail of orange smoothie and spit, which I have to admit is kind of gross.

"Carrie," I turn toward her, wanting to change the subject. "Remember how I was going to say something back in your yard before you interrupted me?"

Carrie's eyes flash mischievously. "How could I forget?"

I roll my eyes in return, a little embarrassed. "I'm serious. Okay, you might want to sit back because this is going to be a long story."

Carrie obediently lies back in her seat and nods, allowing me to begin.

I decide to start with the letter. Then, after I explain in detail the tour that caused me to write the letter, I go on to describe how we can run away from the Capitol and live our lives differently somewhere else.

"We'll never make it, Andy" are the first words that leave her mouth.

I bite my lip. I was afraid that this would happen. I never thought it would, though. "I know, it's going to be hard. But I want you to come with me. You can take some of your precious belongings or whatever with you if you want. I just don't want to leave you here."

I hold my breath tightly as I await Carrie's response. I can practically see the gears in her brain turning. She's a smart girl, but does she care enough about me to leave behind her perfect life?

Her response is a question. "Do you have any footage or pictures from the tour?"

I nod. "Both. I wanted to remember how it felt."

Carrie smiles uneasily as she observes the pictures and watches the clips on my phone. "Wait, so you really saw the exact occurrences of the Games?"

I nod again, a bit curtly. I don't want to answer her questions anymore, I just want her to say yes to mine.

"Wow, Andrew," Carrie smiles approval as she continues to flip through my photo files. I catch a glimpse of a crusty spear that has been cracked from the force of impact against the ground. I can't help but shudder as Carrie hands my phone back to me.

"Okay. I'll go with you. Tonight."

It takes all of my will not to fling myself onto her in a huge bear hug. "Oh. Wow. Um, thanks, Car," I manage.

"Under one condition," she continues, as if I hadn't spoken.

I let out a sigh. I should've known there was going to be a catch. "What?"

Carrie's eyes grow brighter in excitement. "I want to see the world. I don't just want to run off toward our deaths. I want to see all of the districts, maybe meet some people from them. If we're lucky, we could probably blend into one and live forever. That's all."

Hmm. That's not what I expected her to say. I guess it can be managed, though. "Sure. No problem," I say, throwing the empty smoothie cup into the hovering waste container.

"Great! Now, if you will excuse me, I have to go home and start packing!" Carrie bounces away, almost eagerly.

That's so strange, at least for Carrie. I smile. Maybe she's not such a preppy little Capitol girl like I thought. Maybe she's a real rebel.


	5. Chapter 5: Carrie

Chapter 5: Carrie

Today is turning out to be one of the greatest days of my young life. Andrew has shocked me with some disturbing news, but it doesn't matter because we are running away, something that I have thought about before but never had the guts to do.

Best of all, my best friend Andrew loves me and is always going to be there to protect me.

I admit my mind is still flying on a high as I pull out an old reddish knapsack and carelessly toss some of my clothes and toiletries into it. I manage to catch a look at the clock on my wall before I zip up the bag.

It's ten pm already. I promised Andy that I'd meet him down by the fence at ten-thirty. It's at least a good ten minute walk from here to the fence. I ought to hurry up a little bit.

I cringe as I hear Rheah in the next room roll over in her sleep. The absolute last thing I want right now is for my family to wake up and catch me like this.

I study my appearance in my wall-length mirror. I look like any other normal Capitol teenager, off to party on a Friday night. My long read hair is pulled into a ponytail with an old rubber elastic. I have on loose pants and an old shirt of Rheah's that is 'too boyish' for her. With a final, confident smile, I turn on my heels and grab the goodbye letter I wrote earlier, placing it on my pillow where my mother will be sure to see it.

With a few taps on a keypad, I disable my family's nighttime security system and step outside into the dull moon. It's a fine full moon, but for some reason it looks fake, as if the Capitol is playing a nasty trick on me.

I'm about to break off into a light run when I hear a slight rustling of leaves behind me. _Oh no, _I think. I close my eyes and prepare for the worst, hoping I just imagined the noise.

"Carrie!" The voice calls urgently.

I grin as I realize who it is. It's just Waldo, our live-in worker. Trust him to figure out a secret. I suppose he's just here to wish me well on my journey and in my new life.

"Goodbye, Waldo. I'll miss you," I say honestly.

"Yes, sweetheart, I will too," he whispers back. "Here. Take this with you."

I find myself holding a delicately handled a deep purple robe, long and satiny, shimmering like an amethyst in the moonlight.

My heart freezes when I recognize it. My father's Gamemaker robe.

"Waldo," I spit venomously. "Give me one good reason I should take this horrific article of clothing."

Waldo's mile doesn't quite reach his eyes. "You will forget. You must remember who you are."

"I don't understand." I really don't.

"I don't expect you to, sweetheart. Just promise me you'll remember us, back at home."

Us? Does he mean my family? Or perhaps he wants me to remember the Capitol itself. Whatever it is, I trust him. So I take the robe and manage to stuff it in my sack, already managing to destroy the ironing job Waldo probably spent hours on.

"I promise," I mumble at the grass.

Waldo smiles and wraps me in a hug. "Good luck out there. It's a dangerous world. Don't give up on whatever."

With those final words or wisdom, Waldo is gone. I will most likely never see him again.

It's now ten-ten.

As I trudge wearily to the eastern edge of our city, where Andy is waiting for me, I make sure to try and take in as much of the city I can. There's the salon where I got the manicure that changed Andy's life. Oh, look, there's the Training Center where all of the tributes are housed. Lastly, I see Elegance, the place where only yesterday, Andy revealed what he has done.

I am startled when I feel a teardrop on my cheek. No, no, I say to myself. How can I be sad at leaving this place? Then, I realize it's where I grew up and probably would've died. It really does have more meaning than I know.

But now that I'm almost free, no one here will ever see me again. It is nothing but a depressing thought.

* * *

Andy is pacing back and forth next to the fence when I finally arrive. When he see me though, he immediately gets down to business.

"Okay, so, the guards on the fence take breaks every hour from quarter 'till until the top of the hour, so in this case ten-forty-five to eleven. We have to be ready so we have enough time."

I listen intently to the plan, nodding after every step. Apparently, there's a small break in the fence we will slip through after the coast is clear. If we are even a second off with our calculations, Andy and I will be dead within the hour. Flat-out dead.

I peer over his shoulder as he studies a map of Panem. The Capitol is located on the western side of the continent and small District 12 is all the way on the east coast, near a huge body of water that much be an gigantic ocean or something like that. I realize suddenly that District 12 is not far from the land that was once called the Carolinas.

I swallow a hesitant cough in the back of my throat. I was named after the Carolinas. _That_ is where I want to live.

"District _12?_" Andrew sputters when I tell him that's where I want to go. "But that place is a dump! Why on earth do you want to go there? I was thinking you'd go for one of the classier district, like One or Two."

My eyes harden. Of course. Andrew doesn't know.

"What?" he asks, when he catches me glaring at him.

"You don't understand," I whisper.

"Damn straight that I don't," Andrew says, crossing his muscular arms over his chest. "Enlighten me."

I take a shaky breath. "Andrew, what is my name?"

Andrew raises his eyebrows in amusement. "Carrie, of course. Why?"

I nod and ignore his question. "But I bet you can't guess what my full name is and what it means, can you?"

Andrew shrugs. "I don't know."

I fill him in on the history of my name, nearly the exact some way my father did for me. When I am finished, Andy is undeniably still confused.

"But what do some 'states' called the Carolinas have to do with District 12?" Andrew kick a rock in the dirt impatiently.

"My father told me that the Carolinas are not far from where District 12 is now," I say in a hushed tone.

"Oh," Andrew nods, finally understanding. "so you want to live near your namesake."

I nod, glad he finally gets it. "Okay, it's ten-forty, we should - "

"Wait one, more question. How did your father know about the Carolinas if all the records were destroyed like your father said?"

I bite my lip. I hadn't thought of this before. It is my turn to shrug my shoulders. "I'm not sure."

Secretly, though, I'm intrigued. The thought that my father knows something that the Capitol doesn't scares me a bit. Of course, when my father chose the name, they probably thought Carolina was just a random word my father chose because is sounded pretty. _Which, by the way, _I think, _it does._

Andrew touches my arm. "Hey. It's ten-forty-five."

I smile at him.

More like it's go time.

* * *

**A/N: Cliffhanger? Ahahaha. Not going on without at least one more review. :)**


	6. Chapter 6: Andrew

**A/N: I know, this story is pretty dreary so far. But it's only the beginning, and I promise there will be more drama/action later. I plan on making it about 25-30 chapters. ;)**

Chapter 6: Andrew

My father once told me, a couple of years ago, that adrenaline and instinct are the only things that keep the human race alive, and they have for thousands of years. When I first heard this fact, I simply dismissed it, mainly because I thought I'd never have use for this piece of information.

Now, as Carrie is sneaking slowly under the fence ahead of me to freedom on the other side, I truly understand the meaning of my father's words. Not only do we need strength to escape, we also need determination and to be prepared for anything.

Carrie offered to go after me and keep watch while I went under the fence, but I (being the gentleman I am) insisted that she go first to protect herself. I don't want her to get hurt for something that was my idea.

When I finally see Carrie stand up on the other side and nod at me, I take a deep breath and get on my stomach to worm slowly under the gap in the fence. It is difficult, since the break is barely two feet long and one foot high. But I've been in enough physical education classes to know how to move myself under a subdued fence.

Luckily for us, the capitol is too ignorant to electrocute the fence surrounding the city. They would probably rather die than believe the fact that anyone would ever try to flee their perfect society. _Our_ perfect little society of killing and properness. But I know better.

As I inch myself out of the fence, Carrie's eyes widen as she points at the City Circle, several miles away near the capitol's center. The City Circle is where all the important people (such as our fathers) work and, for some of them like President Snow, even live in.

"Crap," I whisper as I wobbly stand up and look in the direction she's gazing in. It takes me no more than ten seconds to understand what is happening.

One of the windows in one of the majestic buildings in the circle is filled with the bright yellow light of electricity. Plus, if I'm not mistaken, that window just so happens to by in President Snow's mansion of the mansion. We're toast.

"Hey, Jonno! Did you hear something?" a guard calls into the darkness.

"Run!" I hiss to Carrie as we grab our belongings and take cover behind a giant oak tree. On the brief run for the tree, Carrie manages to stumble and fall to the ground. Her backpack, fortunately, softens her tumble to the ground and acts as a pillow, protecting her head as she pulls it over her.

Is she for real? I mentally hit myself for bringing her along.

"Carrie! Are you alright?" I loudly whisper, trying not to make enough noise to give us away.

She's on her feet before I can blink and behind the large, sturdy tree before I am.

My face morphs into a grin as I run to catch up with her. I take back what I said; no one has ever accused Car of being slow and stupid. In fact, she's just exhibited a powerful survival trait that I have forgotten: instinctive reflexives.

I glance down at my watch. Ten-fifty-five now. I can hear the guards mumbling over what they heard, but eventually they just agree it was an animal or something and disappear to continue their short break. They start walking back to their posts for almost another hour, because it's almost eleven. We can't let them see or hear us, for obvious reasons.

I pull a pen out of my pack and write on my and a short note to Carrie. Hopefully she can read it in the dim light of the moon. It's much too risky for either of us to be talking out loud now, with the guards so close.

_Let's keep walking for another few hours or so. We need to get as far as we can from here._

Carrie nods assent and immediately runs into the woods even deeper, having no idea where she's going.. But for now it doesn't really matter; we just need to put as much distance between us and the Capitol as we can.

We alternate every ten minutes or so between walking quickly, jogging, and running. Neither of us dares to speak for the next hour or so, in case they are following us with a hovercraft. But I assume after a while that we've covered our tracks excellently, because I can see the tall buildings in the distance and it looks as peaceful as it can be.

I break the silence by dropping my bag on the ground near a tree and motion for Carrie to do the same. We each eat a few crackers and take a few sips of water. We're not that hungry, but we need energy to keep going. Besides, we've brought enough food to last for at least a week.

Carrie digs through her pack for something as she nibbles on a cracker. Her vibrant red hair gets in her way, so she unties her ponytail and redoes it before continuing to search in her bag.

"What are you looking for?" I ask.

"My phone."

"You brought your phone with you? Do you not realize that the Capitol can track us with that thing? You're going to get us both killed! Oh my gosh, we need to -"

"We need to _relax, _Andrew," Carrie snaps as she finally pulls a black case from her bag. "I discontinued it right after we got home today from Elegance. Pulled out the whole darn battery, too. I just brought it along to remember."

"Remember what?" I ask bitterly. "What is back there that you want to remember?"

"My family, for one thing. You know, the blood relatives who raised me from my birth?" she shoots back. "My friends, school, et cetera. Do I need to go on? Don't you see, Andrew? Even if we get away from here now, we can't just get rid of sixteen years of our lives just like that."

"We need to try," I say softly.

Carrie ignores me and goes back to digging through her backpack and redoing her ponytail every time it gets loose.

After another ten minutes of resting, we decide to continue on. Before we left, I managed to grab one of my father's GPS systems from his private home office. I'm pretty sure this device won't give away our position because it gets satellite reading from the districts, not the Capitol. But, then again, the Capitol controls all of the districts, so I take extra precautions by trying to use the GPS as little as possible.

According to the GPS, we are 67 miles from the capitol and 81 miles from District One. The reason we are traveling so fast is because Carrie found two abandoned solar-powered scooters several hours ago, shortly after we stopped to rest. The scooters can go nearly as fast as a car, about 20 miles per hour on the highest setting.

Thank goodness for the scooters, because without them we'd still be well within sight of the Capitol, even with our fast running legs. I wonder who in Panem would just leave two scooters lying around for us, conveniently sitting there. Some other runaways must've tried escaping to freedom nearby.

I'm still not quite on speaking terms with Carrie. It is obvious by the slight frown on her normally smiling face, illuminated by the moonlight that she still misses her home terribly.

Within another hour we are approaching a calm serene lake where we stop the refill our water bottles and rest. Dawn is almost approaching and we are both exhausted, since we traveled all through the night. Carrie and I haven't spoken since we found the scooters several hours ago.

I cannot stand the silence anymore. So without thinking, I reach out with my hand and splash Carrie with my bottle of water. The water makes Carrie drop her own bottle and look over at me in shock. Her hazel eyes look furious and in the sunrise, they look as if they've caught on fire.

"I'm sorry," I whisper. "I don't know why I did that. It's just been so awkward for the past few hours and -"

I don't have time to elaborate more before Carrie reaches out with both her hands and pushes me head first into the lake, which I realize is pretty deep for a little lake.

"HEY!"

"That's what you get, Andrew!" she shouts gleefully down at me, as I scramble to resurface.

"Oh, yeah?" I challenge, climbing back out of the water. "Carrie, darling, you're messing with the champion of the hundred meter freestyle _and_ the butterfly."

Carrie's eyes widen as she realizes this. "Oh, crap."

"Yeah," I confirm, walking over to her.

"No!" she begs, backing away from me. "Don't push me in! Please! I'm sorry, that was just a joke! ANDREW!"

But it's too late; Carrie and I are both already in the lake, laughing like maniacs. We continue splashing in the water until we are both exhausted to the bone.

By the time we climb out, the sun is high in the sky, but we are too tired to move on. I pull out an extra pair of clothes and change into them, and so does Carrie. We set up a small camp about a hundred yards away from the lake, hidden in the trees.

"Well, that was pretty fun," Carrie laughs, after we're both settled into our sleeping bags.

"Yeah," I admit to her. "Listen, are you doing alright? You're not feeling tired, are you?"

Carrie frowns. "Actually, I am a little bit sleepy. Why don't we snooze for a little bit? There's no need to keep watch, since I'm pretty sure that there's no one even within miles of us. And we have daylight on our side, so that helps."

"Sure," I say. "And we can keep moving on at night, okay?"

"That sounds perfect," Carrie says.

"Good night," I say. "Or rather, good day."

Carrie laughs. It is good to hear her laugh again. "Good night Andrew."

Within minutes we are both fast asleep.

* * *

**Good night, my little future Avox girl. Wow, that sounded wrong on so many levels. xD**

**Spoiler: There's going to be a little unexpected twist in the next chapter. Review?**


	7. Chapter 7: Rheah

**A/N: So here's the little twist I was talking about in the last chapter! Not a Carrie POV like you expected, but a POV from Rheah, Carrie's sister back in the Capitol. I think I mentioned Rheah a little bit in the first chapter. I posted this because I wanted to show how Carrie's family is being affected back at home. Rheah may or may not become a regular character; I haven't decided yet. Enjoy!**

Chapter 7: Rheah

I wake up Saturday morning with a throbbing pain in my head, which is strange because I didn't go to Galaxa's party last night. If I'd gone to the party, more than likely I'd be hungover now. But since Carrie is grounded, my mother asked me to stay home, to set a good example I guess. What could I do but agree?

I'm still really upset about not being able to go to the party, though. My mother said that she owes me, but she's been owing me for the past sixteen years, ever since Carrie's birth. No one asked me when I was two if I wanted a little sister, did they?

"Ray Ray!" my father bursts into my room (without permission) with a frown on his face.

I return his frown as I stumble out of bed. "Ugh, Father, don't call me that nickname! I liked it when I was ten, I know, but now it's so embarrassing!"

My father doesn't smile like he normally would. Instead he continues to glare at me. "Rheah, this is no time for jokes. Where is my robe?"

I crinkle my eyebrows together into what Carrie used to call a 'caterpillar face', back when we were younger. "What robe?"

My father sighs deeply in exasperation. "My Gamemaker robe, sweetie. I think you have it. Where is it? I need it for work now."

I take a deep breath and force myself to use a respectful tone. Which, considering the fact that I am still mad over not being able to go to that party last night, is pretty impressive. "I don't know where your robe is, Father. I don't have it. I can help you look for it, if you want."

"That would be great. Thanks." With one final worried look my father dashes away, although I'd bet on him not believing me. Not that I've ever given him reason to. _Carrie's_ the perfect daughter in this family, after all.

Anyway, at first, I think nothing of it. Doesn't my father have at least ten of those stupid purple pathetic excuses for robes? More than likely, Waldo probably just misplaced it somewhere.

I decide to start by waking up Carrie, so maybe she can help us look for the robe. Carrie, more than likely, knows where it is.

"Hey, Waldo," I call into the hall. "Is Carrie awake?"

Waldo looks up from the laundry and gives me a small smile, lightly nodding his head.

"Carrie?" I call, tapping on my little sister's bedroom door with my knuckles. "Are you in there?"

No answer.

I roll my eyes. "That's not funny, Carrie. It's just me, Ray. Open up."

Still no answer. This is seriously beginning to freak me out.

I slowly ease open the door and peer into Carrie's living quarters. What I see gives me a shock.

All her clothes are hung up in her open closet. The glowing blare of her laptop is still shining. Her bed is neatly made, with bright red gingham spread, nearly brighter than her hair. But, of course, no Carrie.

But the thing that catches my eye almost immediately is a thin white piece of paper on one of her pillows, laying plainly in sight. As if it must be found.

* * *

"I don't get it, Waldo," I say, scanning the note for the tenth time. "Where did my little sister go?"

All the note says is: _I'm so sorry. But I had to do this. Please forgive me. I hope you will understand. I love you all. Carolina._

Waldo sighs and takes a seat on the bed next to me. "I do not know exactly _where_ Miss Carrie has gone, Rheah. But I think I know _why._"

I clutch the last item giving proof of my sister, the note, tighter. "Why?"

Waldo counters my question with his own. "Do you know what a rebellion is, Miss Rheah?"

I have to think for a second. "Sure I do. It's when some people get together and protest over something or whatever. Yeah, it's like what the 13 districts tried to do seventy-two years ago. But what does that have to do with Carrie's disappearance?"

Waldo clicks his tongue. "Don't you see, Miss Rheah? Miss Carrie has run away. She's inciting a cause for a rebellion. Something's wrong."

"Yes, I kind of figured that out when I opened the door to Carrie's room and discovered she wasn't in there," I snap.

Waldo looks stressed. "I guess that this is partially my fault," he mutters under his breath. "I shouldn't have gave her that robe."

"What?" I ask, not hearing the last part.

"Nothing," Waldo says. "The point is, she's gone, and I doubt we can get her back."

My mouth goes dry. Run away? But . . . why? My little sister was doing wonderfully here, with nearly everything she could possibly want.

"Waldo, I still don't get it," I reply slowly. "Why would little Carrie rebel over something, if that's what really happened?"

Waldo bites his lip and squints at the ceiling for a while before answering. "Miss Rheah, that's a question that I still do not know the answer to. However, something tells me that this was not her idea."

I snort. "What are you suggesting? That someone forced her to run away? Or maybe one of those boys that are always flirting with her finally caught her attention, so she ran off with him."

I look away from Waldo as I say this. I love my sister Carrie, of course, but the truth is, I've always been a bit jealous of her. She's never had to ask Mother or Father for anything because anything she wants is practically handed to her on a golden platter. She also inherited all of our mother's good looks, while I'm stuck with my father's dull brown hair and matching eyes. The second I turn eighteen (only two months away!), I'm getting surgery.

Why she gets all of this treatment? I don't know. I've discussed it with my therapist plenty of times, but all he said was to let it go. Being an oldest sibling can be _tough_.

But, now, worst of all, she's exactly what a normal Capitol citizen should not be. A rebel. A dirty rebel.

"Sweetheart, I know you're upset," Waldo says, comforting me by running a hand in my hair. "Carrie will always be with you. She was different, that girl. But so are you. You don't rebel like she does. You blend in the crowd, gathering information. You're the special one, too."

"How the hell is that special, Waldo?" I mutter under my breath. "And what on earth do you mean? No one except Carrie understands a word you say."

Waldo looks offended, but only for a second. "You can find out what she's up to. Track her down. Discover what's going on. Add the spice in her own way."

I look up. "And how, exactly, will I do that, Waldo?"

Waldo shrugs indifferently. "Beats me. Good luck though!"

With a final little grin, he's gone. That Waldo is a special character in the story of my life.

I lie back on Carrie's bed, trying to wrap my mind around this. It's almost unreal how the whole situation is.

The question to me is, does Carrie want to be found, like Waldo suggested? Or should I just try to forget about her? And who, if anyone, did she run away with?

I hear a scream from downstairs, and I realize that my parents have just been informed that Carrie is not in her room. The pounding of my mother's tiny feet echo as she runs up the stairs and bursts into Carrie's room.

"Rheah?" My mother's voice is soft and yet tiresome. In that single word, she has fired at me a thousand questions, none of which I can answer.

"Rheah, where is she?"

I swallow. "She's just gone. I don't know, and I don't care."

But the truth is, I do care. Very much.

* * *

By the end of the day, I have had enough. I've wasted an entire Saturday looking everywhere for signs of life in where Carrie is. Nothing is making any sense. She obviously made sure to cover her tracks very well.

Her closet is untouched, as aforementioned. Wherever she is, there must a be a supply of clothes, or she's running around in one outfit. Her journal, once I managed to find it under her bed, was not really helpful either. It's all coded in some weird language that I can't make heads or tails out of. She probably learned it from of her weird friends.

I snap my head up so quickly my neck hurts. Her friends! That's it! One of her friends has to know where she's gone.

Racing over to her computer, I quickly boot it up and search through her contacts. _Mom, Dad, Rheah, Waldo. _That's not helping. _Lativa. _Huh. She must be one of her friends from school. _Millie. Talliah. Bea. _Probably not close friends, who only liked her for her immense popularity.

Finally I notice a name that has been highlighted in yellow, bolded and underlined. Andrew Tassle.

_Here goes nothing, _I say to myself. I reach for the phone, carefully dialing this Andrew's number as printed on the monitor. And I wait anxiously as the phone rings.

"We're sorry. Your call cannot be completed as dialed. The number may have been changed or expunged. Please hang up and try again."

Well, that's a shocker. No doubt that this is the boy Carrie ran away with. He probably pulverized the phone before they left or something. Clever.

Not enough, though. Because Rheah Strikethrough is here, and _no one _messes with Rheah, darling. No one at all.


	8. Chapter 8: Andrew

Chapter 8: Andrew

"It's okay, Car," I tell Carrie. "You almost got it!"

"Argh," Carrie groans as she retrieves the arrow and knocks it back on the bow. "I'm no good at this, Andy."

"Hey, I'm not that good, either," I reply with a grin. Immediately after I say this, though, I hit the tree several yards away, exactly where I was aiming for.

"Right," Carrie says, staring at the arrow.

I sigh and lower my bow. "Let's take a break, then."

I have been trying to teach Carrie archery for the past hour, since it's a good hunting skill. Hunting is pretty important now that we're runaways. But so far, the only thing that Carrie can hunt with her lenient skills is a rock, and only if her concentration is unbroken.

I put away our archery equipment since it's obvious that Carrie doesn't want to practice anymore. When I look up, I catch her staring into the northeast, towards the tall buildings of a district.

"Look, Andy," she says, pointing to the buildings. "It's a district."

I bite my lip, then force on a loose grin. I remember back to the promise I made to her back in the Capitol. "I'm guessing you want to go there right?"

She nods profoundly, then puts on her best begging face. "Please? It'll only take a little while! I really want to see it."

I can't say no. I promised her.

"Yeah," I say, making a face at her. Then I lean down and start to pick up our supplies. "Come on, help me pack."

It's been almost three days since we fled the Capitol now. I wonder how my family and Carrie's is doing. I can tell she's still feeling a little bit bad about leaving them, but the guiltiness has faded greatly by now. She hardly ever talks about them anymore.

"Andrew," Carrie says suddenly. "I feel bad. I just can't get the image of my mother arguing with my sister, thinking that she's the terrible one and -"

_Oh, no, _I think. _Here she goes again._

"You can't feel bad about leaving them anymore, Car," I say to her a bit aggressively. "Get over yourself."

I think I said that a little too harshly, but Carrie's face straightens immediately and she goes back to helping me pack. "You're right. I'm not the curse of my family's name. I am Carrie Strikethrough, proud rebel. And I am a runaway."

I smile. "That's it."

* * *

The minute I see District One, I know that we'll never fit it. Although it's a very close design of the Capitol buildings, the people walking around look very different and almost from another world.

When I look over at Carrie, though, she looks ecstatic. She looks as if she wants to walk right into the fence. Doesn't she understand? I roll my eyes.

"Carrie?"

I put my hand on her shoulder, and she looks up. "What's wrong?"

"We're never going to blend in here," I reply, shaking my head.

"Why not?" she laughs. "This place, so far, is a facsimile of home."

"Look at us!" I gesture to our ratty clothes and our knotted hair. "We look like wild savages. We're lugging around two-ton backpacks and hunting for out food. Not to mention our strange accents that will sound foreign here."

"We look like tributes," Carrie realizes in a hushed voice.

I nod grimly.

"Don't worry, we'll just sneak under the fence, explore a little bit, and leave. How hard can it be?" Carrie asks with an eye roll.

I open my mouth to answer, but am interrupted by a slight rattle near the fence. _Oh, great, _I think, shaking my head. _We've been caught._

But to our luck, it's just a girl. Not much younger than us, maybe fourteen or fifteen. She's standing on the other side of the fence, inside the district, and is staring at us with her green eyes intently.

Carrie and I, as if by some mutual agreement, wait until she speaks to answer, so we can copy whatever accent she has.

"You're runaways, aren't you?" she asks, narrowing her eyes at us. "From the Capitol, probably."

Well, that's that. No doubt this girl is smart. She's already figured us out. Whatever lenient cover we fabricated is blown.

I drop my bag on the ground and step toward the girl. The girl immediately backs up several feet and now I'm able to see her more clearly. She's tall and lavish, with a head full of golden blonde hair that is literally glowing in the sunlight. I immediately know that we'll remember this girl.

"Don't worry, we won't hurt you," I say grimly.

"If anything, we're the ones who should be fearing you," Carrie offers. "We _are_ runaways, after all."

The girl slowly nods, then holds up one hand. "Wait right here, I'll be right back," she tells us.

Within a minute she's back with a small brown package, tied with a red ribbon. Before I know it, it's flown safely over the fence into Carrie's greedy, waiting hands. She tears it open quickly to reveal a bundle of rolls, cheese, and chunks of meat.

"Wow," she whispers to the girl. This food will keep her and me going for at least three days, if not more. "Thank you."

"It's not problem," she replies with a tiny smile. And I can tell by the shine of her sparkly diamond bracelet that it really is not. I swallow a lump in my throat painfully. Just one week ago, I was as rich as this girl, maybe even richer. But Carrie and I gave all of that up when we ran away.

The blonde girl turns around and gestures around the square. "Welcome to District One, population 21,754. Our primary industry is creating items for your city, the Capitol, but little do many know that we are more than that."

What is she now, a tour guide? We can handle ourselves, thank you very much. Although I admit I am impressed with the district itself. I expected District One to be more plain and faddish, but this odd girl reminding me of home. Carrie is, no doubt, probably starting to get homesick.

One look at her tells me that I'm right, but I still can't resist. I want to enter this out of the ordinary place that reminds me of roasted chicken and orange pudding. While the girl entertains Carrie by telling her about her family, I am searching the fence for a gap to enter the district.

"Isn't there a gap anywhere in this dang fence?" I ask the girl. "How do you people get in and out of there, anyway?"

The girl's expression changes. "You really _are_ from the Capitol," she says. "Don't you know? We never leave the district. Only a few people go by train to transport goods, and that's all. I've never been outside this 'dang' fence in my life."

"That's terrible," Carrie says quietly.

"It's just the way things are," the girl says, flipping her hair.

"You remind me of my sister," Carrie tells the girl. "You're both really pretty and always helping others."

The blonde girl takes it as a compliment. "Thanks. I'm sure you really miss her."

Carrie nods. I guess she's finally starting to realize that she does.

I clear my throat awkwardly. I'm getting sick of this. If we can't go in, we might as well leave. "Carrie, we have to go."

"Already?" she cries. "But we just got here! And I haven't even seen the whole district yet."

"Carrie," I repeat softly.

Carrie grits her teeth together, obviously irritated.

"It's alright," the girl says, as if she would be offended by this. "I have to go, too. Duty calls, you know."

"I understand," Carrie whispers back.

But I don't. What kind of duty do these kids have?

The girl starts to turn around to leave, but turns back at the last minute. "You have a beautiful name," she says.

"What?" Carrie asks, taken aback.

"Carrie," she says. "It's unique."

"Well, thanks," Carrie says with a shrug. "It's short for Carolina."

The girl furrows her eyebrows together, asking for an explanation. But she's not going to get one. That's enough. I'm getting sick of this! _Let's go already, Carrie!_

"It's a Capitol name," I say before Carrie can say anything to the girl. "You wouldn't understand."

"Andrew!" Carrie shrieks. "That was rude, as well as a lie. Apologize!"

"Sorry," I mutter at the girl, glaring at her like a fiend.

"It's okay," the girl says coolly. "I should've known that I wouldn't fit it with Capitol people."

"No, please, wait -" Carrie starts.

"You know, you both should be glad you ran into me and not a Peacekeeper or anything like that," she interrupts fiercely.

"We are," Carrie tells her, trying to calm her down. "Thank you. We owe you."

"You're welcome," she flashes back. "But I can tell I'm not wanted here anymore, at least not by the boy. Good luck on your escape. You'll need it."

Carrie and I watch helplessly as the pretty, blonde, green-eyed girl runs away from us, towards the square.

Carrie turns to me, a mixture of emotions boiling inside of her, I can tell.

"I don't want to hear it. Let's go," I say flatly.

"No. Wait," she stops me by grabbing my arm. "Did you not just see what happened? You just hurt insulted her feelings by insulting her district! How could you be so rude?"

"Carrie, I have better things to worry about than the feelings of a rich girl who's safe in District One. Maybe you didn't realize this before, but we're kind of running away for our lives!" I scream.

Carrie shakes her head disbelievingly. "You're a monster, Andy. This entire thing has made you incredibly selfish beyond words. What's wrong with you?"

My expression stays flat. "I care about you. That's what's wrong, apparently."

Carrie continues to glare at me for a while. It's true, though. I do care a lot about her. Sometimes, I think she wishes that I'd just care a little less.

"Come one," I say, taking her free hand, the one not carrying the brown package. "We need to set up a new camp."

I turn away from the fence of District One, leaving Carrie staring longingly at it. But when I turn around, she's right behind me, following me deeper and deeper into the dark forests of Panem, leaving District One and the blonde girl behind in the dust.

* * *

**A/N: In case you didn't figure it out already, the blonde girl was Glimmer from THG. Oh, the irony. :)**

**You might be wondering why I made Glimmer a little smart, instead of the dunce she's portrayed as in the book. Well, I figured that since the Games can change people, she might've changed her personality to look stupid in the Games, to get sponsors or something. Maybe we underestimate the intelligence of everyone in the Games.**


	9. Chapter 9: Carrie

Chapter 9: Carrie

A few days later, Andrew and I have finished all the food from that girl in District 1 and we're also out of the food we brought from home. We realize that we have to go hunting.

"You go alone," I tell him. "I can't hunt worth crap. Besides, I can stay and guard our camp."

"No, Carrie. It's okay; camp will be fine." A mischievous grin fills his face. "Aw, come on, District 2 is right over there."

This finally convinces me. "Okay, but this time, we're going inside."

"Fine," he says, rolling his light blue eyes. I can tell he's super excited, though.

Using Andy's GPS, I find the lining of District 2's fence and, fortunately, a small gap at the bottom, as microscopic as the small break that we used to escape from the Capitol.

"I can't go in, Carrie," Andy says suddenly.

"Why not?" I ask, more surprised than angry.

"I have to go hunt, remember?" he minds me, holding up his bow. "Meet me back at camp in one hour, okay?"

"Okay," I sigh, a bit disappointed. I really hope I don't get lost or anything. Then again, I have the GPS, so I shouldn't be too worried.

After searching into District 2, I immediately know that this place is vicious. I've only been in the district limits for a few minutes, yet I've already witnessed at least two fights. I really hope that I won't have to talk to anyone here. I just want to explore a little bit and then leave.

Walking into the square, I amuse myself by people-watching. The people here are pretty different from us in the Capitol. No one here has unnatural hair colors or is wearing expensive jewelry. Everyone seems to be busy, walking off to work or whatever people do here for a living.

District 2 is the medical unit of Panem, growing up herbs and creating the medicines that the Capitol either cannot make or is too lazy to make. Most of the people here know how to punch someone out _and_ fix them up again. It's sort of a scary thing if you think about it.

I'm so absorbed in my thoughts that I don't notice when a caramel haired boy comes up and takes a seat next to me.

"Hey," he says. "Are you from around here? I don't' think I've ever seen you before."

_Busted!_ I need to reply quickly or else he'll definitely realize I'm a hopeless runaway.

"Um, no, I'm from the other side of the district," I reply in what I hope is a convincing accent.

The boy nods, so I know that I've said the right thing. "Oh, so you're from the Line. I'm Cato. You?"

"Lativa," I say automatically. No way I'm telling this guy my real name.

Cato is about to nod again, but he unexpectedly turns toward me, a glare in his eyes. "Hey, wait a minute. You're not from here, are you?"

I laugh nervously. "Of course I am."

"Then why is your name Lativa? That's a totally Capitol name."

"My grandparents named me after this girl from the Capitol they met a long time ago. She was a runaway, I think. I know it's a total Capitol name; that's why I hate it." I add an eye roll for believability.

There is a little truth to this statement, because my friend Lativa back in the Capitol was named after her grandmother's friend. But the rest of is so made up I'm afraid my tongue will go haywire and explode from the lies.

But, luckily, all Cato does is apologize and agree that the Capitol is terrible.

I didn't realize that people in the districts have such a low opinion of the Capitol. I begin to wonder why.

"Why do you hate the Capitol so much, Cato?" I ask curiously.

Cato lowers his voice. "Lots of reasons, probably some of the same ones you have. They treat us a bit better than they do to some districts, but still, there's some occasional shortages, the Hunger Games -"

"The Hunger Games?" I echo.

"Oh, yeah. Here, it's a pretty big honor to be chosen, you know, and we get lots of volunteers each year, but you still think it's weird, you know?"

_No, not really, I don't, _I want to say. But all I do is nod and smile, trying to excuse myself to I can escape.

Cato won't let me leave, though. He goes on to describe how his parents are forcing him to volunteer for the Seventy-fourth Hunger games in two years, when he's eighteen. I have to admit, that _is_ kind of harsh. I can't imagine my parents ever forcing me to volunteer for something like the Games.

Apparently, Cato's been training for this his entire life. His dad and uncle, I find out, are both victors and they want him to follow in their footsteps.

"I mean, don't get me wrong or anything, I'd love to be a victor, I just wish I didn't have to work so hard for," he elaborates.

"That's too bad," I say distractedly, as I pretend to search around the square for someone. "Listen, it was really nice talking to you, but I have to go meet my friend at his house."

Cato looks crushed, as if there's nothing he'd like better in the world than to keep talking to me. "Oh. All right."

"I'll see you around, okay?" I lie easily. "Bye."

When I look back at Cato, he's already gone and blended into the crowd. I feel a little bit bad about deserting him like that, but I really want to keep exploring the district.

I peer around every alley and corner I can find and try to avoid people as much as I can. That doesn't stop me from people-watching, though. I come to learn that most people here are like Cato: kind and helpful, but hiding an inner saucy/vicious side that can be triggered if you say the wrong thing.

Overall, I feel as though I like this place more than the Capitol. It has a certain homely feel to it, and the people here actually know and help each other. _Maybe we can live here,_ I think.

But then I remember about the Carolinas and District 12, and that thought sends me racing back to the gap in the fence in anticipation.

Taking one last look at all my surrounding, I clutch the tiny bag of souvenirs I bought from a street vendor and sneak under the fence as quick as I can. I really hope that Andy shot at least one squirrel or something, because I just realized that I'm starving.

I'm scanning through our GPS, trying to locate the direction of our camp (because I can't remember which way is east), when I hear the voice.

"You liar," it calls to me through the fence.

I'm so startled I drop the GPS and cause the screen to go black. "Cato?"

"Yes, it's me," he snarls. "I knew you weren't from here the second I saw you. You're a filthy runaway, aren't you?"

My shoulders drop. I know when I am beaten. "Yes. But please don't tell anyone! Please! I -"

"Where _are_ you from, then?" he interrupts. "Six? Nine? Eleven? I'm going to guess your real name is not really Lativa, either, is it?"

"Please, Cato -"

"You know what? Never mind. I'm just going to go ahead and report you to the Peacekeepers, okay?"

"Wait!" I cry, desperately grabbing the fence in a insubstantial attempt to stop him from getting us killed. "Cato, please, no, wait!"

Cato stops for a second, then spins around. "WHAT?"

"At least give me a chance to explain myself. Please?"

Cato lets out a sigh. "Fine. You have exactly one minute, starting now."

"My name's Carrie," I begin. "I'm a runaway, yes. I'm really sorry for sneaking into your district, and for lying to you. I just didn't want to get my thin cover blown. Please forgive me. And I really do have a friend named Lativa. We were good friends back in the Capitol. We -" I have to stop, because Cato's facial expression suddenly changed when I mentioned the Capitol. "What?"

"You're from the Capitol?" he asks me hoarsely.

I nod, confused. "Yes, but what does that have to do with anything?"

Cato falls to the ground on his knees and grabs the fence with both hands. "Oh, no. Please don't tell anyone that I complained about the Games! Do you know how much trouble I could get into if they I said that?"

I snort. "Oh, please. Who would I tell? And technically, I'm already in more trouble than you because I ran away from their magnificent city. Besides, they're way too ignorant to know how much the Games are hurting you all, so they'd never suspect that you would complain about it."

Cato's face softens, surprisingly. "Thank you. I really appreciate it."

"No problem," I say uncomfortably.

"Carrie?"

"Yes?"

"Why did you run away?" Cato's shimmering eyes demand the truth.

I shift my feet a bit, pick up my GPS, and sigh. "My friend did something terrible. Something that probably would've gotten him killed if he stayed. He didn't want to leave me behind, so we ran away together."

Cato nods, letting the subject drop.

"Listen," I say. "Thanks for listening to me and not turning me or my friend in. You could've easily done that, but you didn't. Thank you."

Cato blushes. "Well, um . . . your welcome."

I turn on the GPS, a bit pleased that running away hasn't weakened my ability to get what I want. I don't want to stick around here anymore; Cato probably has better things to do. I wave a quick little goodbye, flash one tiny last smile, and take off into the woods, not looking back.

With the help of the GPS, I find my way back to camp and collapse into my sleeping bag. Andrew is not here yet, probably still out hunting. I roll over onto my left side and try to get some rest before he comes back. The sun is still pretty high in the sky, and I'm guess it's a little past our normal lunch time.

But sleep is prevented because for some reason I can't get the image of Cato out of my head. I keep seeing him leaning against the fence, begging for mercy, against some unknown threat that looms over him like a storm cloud.

* * *

**A/N: Can Avox girl (Carrie) see the future? :O**

**I'm sorry if Cato is a little OOC, I just wanted to make him nicer here because he's at home, in District 2, safe and sound.**

**Credit for the whole medical thing idea goes to ****BlackRoseOpal**** and the story **_**The Unknown Lovers of District 2. **_**It's a great story about Cato and Clove; go read it! ;)**


	10. Chapter 10: Rheah

**A/N: Another chapter from Rheah's POV. Remember the smoothie shop from Chapter 4? It's going to play an important part here. :)**

**I've decided that Rheah will become a main character and there will be a chapter from her POV every two chapters. It'll go: Andrew, Carrie, Rheah, (repeat). It's nice to write about the Capitol, you know.**

Chapter 10: Rheah

I've given up all hope of locating my sister. If Waldo is right and she really did run away, she's probably dead by now at any rate.

My father's missing Gamemaker robe never turned up, and we've noticed more things either missing or destroyed around the house. We can't exactly attribute these events to Carrie's disappearance, but I have a gut feeling she had something to do with them.

I wonder what we're going to do on Monday (which is tomorrow) when Carrie is expected to show up in school. I suppose we could cover for a week or so by saying that's she's ill, but after that, suspicious will start to arise. The Capitol doesn't exactly keep track of every single one of its citizens (especially with the Seventy-second Hunger Games next month), but someone is eventually going to notice that the Strikethrough family has one less human being in it.

Why didn't Carrie think of these things before she ran off in the middle of the night? I knew I heard something in the next room last Friday, when she ran off, which was also the day of Carrie's suspension from school.

"Rheah, sweetie, it's almost five. Don't you have to go to work?" my father yells from the sitting room.

Oh, darn it. I totally forgot! It's Sunday evening, which means I have a good five-hour shift at Elegance to look forward to. I work there as surveillance manager each Sunday night and every weekday after school.

I know a lot of teenagers would kill to have my job. The pay for one shift is enough to keep a person in food for several days, and my coworkers aren't half bad. Some are quite interesting.

"Yeah, I'm getting ready right now!" I shout, so my parents won't worry.

Where the hell is my uniform though? The mandatory worker uniform at Elegance is jeans and a shirt that says _Elegance: Panem's Best Smoothies_. I don't understand why I have to even wear a uniform, though, anyhow. I'm not even a cashier. All I do is sit in the back room and watch surveillance tapes.

I finally find the bright yellow shirt under a pile of laundry and pull it on quickly. The only thing worse than working at Elegance is being late for work at Elegance.

* * *

When I finally arrive at _Panem's Best Smoothie Shop_, I find it to be a pretty quiet day. There are only a few, scattered customers sipping drinks around the shop. When I look over at the clock, it's four fifty-eight. I barely made it for my five-to-ten shift.

"Yo, Rheah," Galaxa calls over from the register. "What's up, girl?"

Galaxa is one of my crazy coworkers here at Elegance. She works as a cashier and is always either drinking a coffee or on her phone. Today it's a small iced mocha from out $10 menu. Hey, this place isn't for the poor.

"Nothing much," I lie, tossing my bag on the counter. "You?"

Galaxa slams both her hands down on the counter and gasps. "Oh my gosh, so yesterday, me and my boyfriend Szazone - you know him, right? Light blue hair that's kind of spiky, brown eyes, adorable smile? Well, anyway we were at Rusty's and -"

I know from previous experiences that getting caught in a one-sided conversation with Galaxa is not a good way to avoid being late. I really don't give a crap to what happened with her and Szazone last night, and I don't care if she knows it.

"Oops, sorry! The Bomb is calling me!" I interrupt, running to the back rooms in a hurry.

The Bomb is what everyone here calls our boss, Mr. Pastaro. The nickname is really self-explanatory, because if you do just one thing to tick him off, he'll go off like a bomb. His dad owns Elegance, but that doesn't give him the right to be such a jerk, does it?

I quickly jot my name down on the hours log and run for the surveillance room, but it's too late.

"Rheah, darling, how are you? You didn't show up Friday, what happened?" Mr. Pastaro's nasal voice is as inflicted as ever.

I turn around and force on a smile. "I'm doing good, thank you, Bo- I mean, Mr. P. And sorry about last Friday, we had a little family incident." The truth is, I totally forgot about work on Friday; I was too busy worrying about Galaxa's party that night, which, of course, I ended up not even going to because of Carrie.

Fortunately, the Bomb lets it go. I think the only explanation why he does, though, is because he known I could squash him like a bug with my father's power. The single reason I have this job is because my father wants to teach me the value of money or something like that. And he wants me to stop asking him for money, of course.

"Very well then, you can go ahead and start reviewing the tapes in the back room. You have three days' worth of tapes to watch: Friday's, yesterday's, and today's. Better get started," he says with a smirk.

I grit my teeth to prevent myself from hitting the Bomb in the head as I force myself into my video tape room, slamming the door shut behind me.

My job here is pretty simple. Review all the tapes from the day before, while at the same time keep an eye on the live cameras in case something occurs. Usually, I leave that job to whoever is at the register, since my hands are already full with work. If I manage to finish reviewing all the tapes before my shift is over, I am allowed to help at the register if I want to. If I don't, I just sit back and sip a smoothie.

I start by popping Friday's tape into the playback, then wait for it to load.

'PLAYBACK. FRIDAY, AUGUST 2.'

The tape starts at the shop's opening at seven am. I fast forward through all of the morning hours, from seven am to noon. Nothing ever happens during Codah's shift. That man makes everyone at the register run and cry for their mothers.

Then, at exactly twelve forty-seven and twenty-one seconds, I see something that catches my eye. Two teenagers, a girl and a boy, enter the shop and order a smoothie. The boy pays for the smoothie and leads the girl over to a booth by the door, straight in view of the cameras. The girl immediately takes the Orange Splash and drinks half it down, while the boy laughs. The girl has dark red hair and porcelain skin, and even drinks the smoothie the same way Carrie does, without the straw . . .

_It can't be,_ I tell myself.

But there it is. My little sister Carrie, sharing a smoothie with a boy, on a day she was supposedly grounded. Oh, wait until our mother and father see this!

I pause the tape, play it back at a normal speed, and zoom in on Carrie. The boy is telling her something, and her facial expression slowly goes from happy to distressed.

Oh, how I wish I could hear what they are saying! I admit it, I'm a sucker for delicious gossip. Maybe this boy is telling her that he just wants to be friends. Or maybe he's saying that he -

Wait a minute. _Wait a minute. _This was the day that Carrie ran away, isn't it? I check the date. Yes, it is. There is definitely something fishy about this, if only I could figure it out. Then it hits me. This boy must be the boy that Carrie ran away with! Andrew something!

As I continue watching them, I become more sure of it. Carrie mouths the word "Okay" followed by some incomprehensible dialogue, then exits the shop quickly, leaving the boy staring in amazement.

Who exactly _is_ this boy, and what did he have to do with my sister's disappearance? What did he say to her just now on the tape that caused her to run back home and prepare to die?

I think back to what Waldo told me a few days ago after we discovered Carrie was gone. _Track her down. Discover who she's with. You're the special one, too._

And suddenly I know what I must do. I must locate Carrie, restore sanity to her brain, and destroy this Andrew boy who took my sweet little sister away from us.

I quickly pull out the tape from the playback and stuff it in my bag. I'll review it at home later. Right now, I have more tapes to watch.


	11. Chapter 11: Andrew

Chapter 11: Andrew

"You did what?" I scream at her.

"I think I broke the GPS," Carrie repeats.

"Are you serious?" I sigh. "How and when did this happen?"

Yesterday, after coming back from hunting, I discovered Carrie fast asleep in her sleeping bag. She looked exhausted, so I just wrapped up the squirrel I shot and fell asleep as well, deciding to wait for another day before continuing on.

Now that it's five am the next day, I just found out that our precious location projector is broken. It's not a good way to start off the morning.

"Well," Carrie starts, "I was escaping from District 2 and this boy named Cato scared me so badly I dropped the GPS. The screen went totally black, but it was working fine after I left Cato. It helped me find my way back to our camp."

"But it's not quite helping us now, is it?" I say sarcastically.

"Andy, please. I said I'm sorry, didn't I?"

"No, you didn't."

"Well, I'm sorry. For not saying sorry. And I'm sorry for breaking the GPS. But we still have the map you brought, don't we?"

I fight the urge to grimace. "Yes."

Carrie smirks. "See, everything will be fine. Maybe we can get someone in the districts to fix the GPS later, all right?"

If this was anyone else, I'd probably already be punching them by now. But this is Carrie, and I can't stay mad at Carrie for too long. It irritates me how I can't seem to do that.

"All right," I say. "Butt if anything breaks again, you're being held responsible, no questions asked."

"No fair!" Carrie sounds like she's three years old.

I study the map while Carrie grudgingly finishes packing up camp. I point to the southeast. "District 3 is forty-seven miles that way. If we travel with our scooters at high speed, we should be able to make it a little bit after sunrise."

Carrie stands up with her bag over her shoulder and hands me my bag. "Then let's go. The sooner we're out of here, the sooner we can get our GPS fixed."

We eat breakfast on the way, which is no more that a little rabbit each and purified water. I'm beginning to miss the heavy delicacies of the Capitol. Fried potatoes, roasted chicken, baked pudding with sauce. My mouth begins to water involuntarily.

_But it's all for a good cause, _I remind myself. It's all to protest against the Capitol and their stupid Hunger Games. Speaking of the Hunger Games, the next ones are coming up in a month or so. I snort as I remember that catchy little phrase we use to intimidate the people in the districts. _May the odds be ever in your favor._

"We're here," Carrie says in a sing-song voice. She leans her scooter against a tree and skips to the fence. "Come on!"

Carrie looks a bit distressed when I catch up to her. Her face is flushed, and she looks like she's about to cry.

"What's up?" I ask, immediately worried.

Carrie kicks the fence in frustration. "There's no gap anywhere here!"

I look up at the nearby tree that has brunches extending into the district, then grin mischievously. "That isn't a problem."

Carrie looks over at me with a weird look, so I know she knows I have a plan. "And may I ask why?"

"Because," I tell her. "We can climb."

"Climb?" Carrie looks up. "Oh, that's no problem. Easy. Piece of cake."

"Ugh, don't remind me of food," I groan.

Carrie giggles, and pretty soon we both have all our supplies tossed over the fence, with us quickly following. By way of tree, of course. Climbing tree is not something we do every day, but we've climbed enough ropes in gym class to know how to get it done.

Once we are safely inside the district, we glance around the square silently. There's not many people here; it must be a day off. A few stores look inviting, and I assume Carrie will want to go there first. But the tart expression on her face suggests otherwise.

"First things first," she says. "We need to get our GPS fixed."

"Oh, yeah," I say, glaring mockingly at her. "I'm still mad at you about that."

"Well, don't be," she says, locking our hands intertwiningly together. "Look over there. Pataro's Fix-It Shop. I'm sure that store was _made _for fixing things like our broken GPS."

I roll my eyes, secretly grateful that she's guilty enough to fix our GPS first before exploring. "Pataro's. That's a cool name."

"Not as cool as Carolina, though, eh?" Carrie nudges me in the side playfully.

"Not quite," I agree.

* * *

Although the sign at the door proudly announces "Yes, We're Open!", Pataro's looks virtually dead. At the empty service desk, I can see rows and rows of tools and electronics piled to the ceiling, but no one's here.

District 3. Factories and electronics. Of course the people here can fix our GPS. Most of them practically live on wires. Literally and figuratively.

Carrie reaches over on the counter and rings a service bell, producing an echo throughout the store.

"Roxanna, can you get that, sweetheart?" a male voice shouts from the back of the store, sounding impatient.

"Okay, Father," a timid voice replies.

A tall, skinny girl appears around the corner and walks up to us at the service desk. "Hello, welcome to Pataro's," she says in her relaxed quiet tone. "How may I help you?"

"Hi. We were just wondering if you'd be able to fix our GPS," Carrie says, handing it over to the girl.

Roxanna's eyes widen when she looks at the GPS. "This is a high quality 4345 model. No one here even owns one of these. We only ship them to the Capitol. How on earth did you get one of these?"

Carrie looks over at me, stuck.

"Um, we have connections," I say. "Not to brag or anything." Fortunately, Roxanna is barely listening to me anymore. She's already opening up the GPS with a screwdriver and replacing random wires with other wires of different colors. She's acting as if she's been tinkering with electronics her entire life. Which she probably has.

"Wow, Andrew, she's even more 'tech-support' than you," Carrie says, stifling a laugh.

"Don't be rude," I scold, but I can't help but smile. Carrie's right, this girl is a total dork, right down to her wire rim glasses. At least she's fixing our GPS.

Several minutes later, Roxanna hands us the GPS, which is on the welcome screen. I tap the surface and am ecstatic to see it's working fine.

"Thank you so much!" Carrie says, reaching over the counter to hug the skinny girl. She looks a bit surprised at first, but then accepts Carrie's hug.

"You're welcome," Roxanna says with a goofy smile. "That will be eleven kratalas."

I freeze in place. How stupid I am! I totally forgot. Of course service like this will cost money. I'm about to fabricate a detailed story about how we don't have the money, when Carrie reaches into her bag and pulls out a small red paper that must be local money.

"Thank you," Roxanna says. "Have a nice day."

"How did you do that?" I ask Carrie as we're walking out of the store. Carrie grins. "My father has this machine at home that held $20 in local currency for all of the districts. Well, at he did. I stole all of the money from the machine before we left and replaced it with fake paper bills. My family's so dumb; they won't even notice."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm positive," she says with an eye roll. "Now we can buy all the souvenirs we want!"

"You think you're so smart, don't you?" I comment.

"Pretty much, yes," she answers, blowing off her fingernails as if the task actually required hard labor.

After exploring the rest of the district for a while (District 3 is relatively small compared to Districts 1 and 2), we climb back over the fence and set up a new camp near the fence. I saw some wild animals last night in the woods while I was hunting, and I'm not taking any chances if some flesh eater attacks us. Staying as near as we can to civilization is safer.

"Tomorrow, you have to come hunting with me," I tell Carrie.

Carrie groans. "All right. But can I do something else? Like gathering or cooking the meat? 'Cause, you know, I can't shoot."

"We'll both do a little of each," I say.

"Fine. Good night, Andrew."

"Good night."

* * *

**A/N: Yes, this is kind of a filler chapter. I'm sorry to say that most of the rest of the chapters will be a little like this: they'll go into a different district and meet someone from there. I'll try to fit something from THG or CF into each chapter/district, but be warned: I have no creativity right now and I'm pretty fresh out of ideas.**

**This chapter it dedicated to Roxanna Auntie, a really close family friend. She's always commenting on how I'm writing in my spiral notebook and a few weeks ago she asked if she could be in one of my stories. So this is for her. :)**


	12. Chapter 12: Carrie

**A/N: The inspiration for this chapter was a snow globe. Read on if you want to find out more. :)**

Chapter 12: Carrie

The next day brings unexpected joy for both of us. I've shot my first squirrel.

"Great job, Carrie!" Andrew says with a grin. "We'll have a real feast."

We risk a fire for lunch and cook the squirrel, along with some other meat that Andrew somehow caught. We also eat some greens that I gathered near the fence of District 3, as well as some fish from a giant lake nearby.

"What's this called?" I ask Andrew, referring to a strange bird creature that he shot. "It tastes kind of like chicken."

Andrew shrugs and observes the piece in his hands. "Some kind of wild turkey creature. It's definitely edible, though."

"Well yeah. I'd be dead by now if it wasn't."

After lunch, we hop back on our scooters, our packs full of leftover food. We're pretty tired, since hunting is quite a bit of work. No wonder people in the Capitol are so lazy; we never get any exercise.

"So what are we doing today?" I ask Andrew.

Andrew looks over at me. "We're doing what we've been doing for almost a week now. Moving closer to District 12."

"But that's so boring!" I say. "Can't we stop near a district or something?"

"Again?" Andrew sighs. "What, is that our daily routine now?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Everyday we hunt, sleep, eat, and visit a different district. At this rate we'll be in District 12 next week. Is that really what you want?"

I knit my eyebrows. "Of course. I want to live there."

Andy stops his scooter suddenly and looks over at me. "Carrie. Do you even remember why we left the Capitol in the first place?"

"Um, no, I forgot." I stop my scooter as well and adjust the strap on my bag so it doesn't put as much pressure on my shoulder. I didn't really forget. I just don't want to have to say it.

"It was because of that letter, damn it!" Andrew shouts, kicking the ground. "How can you just act like you're having the time of your life, visiting districts, when we're defying the Capitol?"

"Andrew," I say softly. "I don't even know why you wrote that letter in the first place. The Hunger Games have been going on for almost seventy-two years. It's a way of life."

"But that's what we're protesting about," Andrew counters. "We won't be able to stop them alone, I know. There's only two of us. But maybe our story will inspire others."

I let out a silent sob. "No one will remember us, though! That's the problem. We're just two teenage runaways."

"Maybe," Andrew says. "but we know that we're more than that."

He starts up his scooter again and, with that, we're off on our way.

* * *

District 4 is the fishing district of Panem. All of the seafood we import comes from here. The GPS tells us a bit more about the economy of the district, but I lost interest after the first sentence. Water is not my thing.

Andrew, on the other hand, looks like he's in his sanctuary. Visiting this district reminds me of the little water fight we had on our first day as runaways. I smile, remembering how it feels like to be surrounded in the lake, with nothing for several yards around you except the water. Maybe swimming isn't so bad after all.

"Oh, look at this, Carrie!" Andy turns around and hands me something. "Can we get this?"

I sigh. Andy and I are in a public market in the square, observing handicrafts. The square here is incomplete; the fourth side of the 'square' is part of a huge lake. This is apparently the place where we get all our fish and crab from. From anywhere in the district you can this lake. The locals have no name for the lake, as far as Andy and I can tell. They just call it 'the lake'.

"What is this?" I ask, looking down at the round, globular object in my hands.

Andy shrugs. "The man behind the counter calls it a 'snow globe'."

My eyes light up. "Snow?"

I've only ever seen snow a handful of times, since it rarely ever snows in the Capitol. But up here in District 4, snow must be a common occurrence in the winter if they have a souvenir named after it.

The design is unique. A glass dome filled with water containing a few objects called shells and several children skating on the lake in the winter, when the water has frozen into ice.

"It's beautiful," I say to Andy. "I like it."

"Wait, that's not all. Shake it."

I peer quizzically at him. "Shake it?"

"Yes." Andy smiles. "Do it."

I shake the snow globe rapidly a few times and look back down at it.

"Oh!" I say, with a sharp intake of breath. The white bits of material lying at the bottom of the globe appear to be floating down on the skating children. Just like snow.

"That's just awesome," I exclaim. "How much is it?"

"Five rabos," Andy says. "Can we get it, Carrie? Please?"

I roll my eyes, trying to hide a smile. "Sure."

I hand the merchant five rabos from the stash from my father, and we continue walking around the square. Several minutes later, I see a small boy down at the other end of the town walking with his head down, looking sad.

"Wait right here," I say to Andy, and walk straight for the boy.

The boy looks up when I approach. "Are you here to take away my brother, too?"

"What?" I ask, completely confused.

"I'm Evan Cresta," the boy introduces himself, ignoring my question.

I furrow my eyebrows. _Cresta. _That sounds oddly familiar.

"My sister Annie won the Games two years ago," he explains with a grimace.

I nod, now understanding. "But why are you so sad? Don't the victors' families have happy lives?"

Evan looks even sadder now, if that's possible. "We did, for a while. But when Annie came back, I realized something was wrong about her. She used to be the best sister ever, she always would tell me stories about the grand adventures she went on. But now, she's all loopy and can't go ten minutes without getting hysterical about something."

I have tears in my eyes by the time Evan is done explaining about how the Games changed his big sister. I realize that even if you win the Games, you life will never be the same. For you or your family.

"Right now I'm supposed to be with my brother and Annie while my parents are fishing, but I ditched them. I'm too bummed to do anything, anyway," Evan says.

I feel like I have to do something for this kid, this kid whose life has been altered by the Games. I feel like I must do something for him, even though he has never helped me.

"Here, take this," I say urgently, handing Evan the snow globe.

Evan looks at the souvenir curiously. "Why are you giving me a snow globe?"

"Shake it."

"I know what happens."

I grit my teeth in frustration. "Just do it!"

Evan shakes the globe, and together we watch the 'snow' fall inside, raining down on the skating children.

"You're one of those snowflakes," I tell him. "You may be feelings down on the ground right now, but sometime soon someone will come around and give your life a shake, changing it for the good. Someone very special will do that, very soon."

Evan gives me a 'what are you talking about' look. I know I sound like my sister Rheah's therapist, but really? I'm opening my mouth to explain everything again, in a simpler fashion, but he interrupts me.

"But eventually, those snowflakes will calm down and settle back unhappily on the ground," he argues.

I suppress a smile. I have to hand it to him, this kid is smart. But fortunately, I know just what to say. "But someone will always be curious and thoughtful enough to reach over and give it a shake, sending you flying away again."

My little psychology lesson turns out well. Evan considers this for a second, then leaps up to give me a hug. "You're right, kind stranger. Thank you."

I watch as Evan runs back down the street, no doubt looking for his siblings. I feel a warm feeling run through my body as I go back to find Andrew.

"Were did you go?" he asks when I find him standing exactly where I left him. "I turned around and you were talking to some little kid in a parka. Believe me, it took a lot of strength not to call security."

"Relax," I say. "I was just talking to Evan Cresta."

"Who is that?" Andrew asks, obviously not recognizing the name.

I explain my story to Andrew, and by the time I am done, he's smiling and nodding appreciation.

"Good job, Carrie," he says. "I think you made him feel a lot better. But how did you know that someone would eventually help him?"

I shrug. "I don't know exactly. I just have this crazy feeling that one day, his sister Annie will find someone that cares about her and will take care of her and her family. Maybe not today or tomorrow. But soon."

Andrew nods and we start our short journey back to the fence, the happy feeling still with me.

"Hey, Andy?"

"Yeah?"

"I think I figured out why it's important to help others," I say to him.

"And why is that?" Andy says with a smile.

"Because it helps you, too."

* * *

**A/N: Oh yeah. Snow globes are awesome. Who's with me? *high-five***

**Ha, but seriously, I loved writing this chapter because there was something about it that made me want to roll up in a ball on the floor and shed happy tears. I'm glad I was able to fit Annie Cresta in here. And the whole thing about finding someone special to help her? Well, I bet you know who that is. ;)**


	13. Chapter 13: Rheah

Chapter 13: Rheah

It's Monday and I'm missing school because of my parents' command to 'take care of my ill little sister Carrie.'

I don't know where to start with the whole Andrew thing.

Andrew Tassle could be anybody. He could be a groupie, the son of the street vendor on the corner, or just a nobody.

I decide to text Galaxa for help. Although I doubt she can give me any ideas, maybe talking with her will generate one.

_**RadRheah: Hey, what's up?**_

_**Galaxa1010: Rheah? Oh, hi. Um, I'm kind of busy right now, hun. It's not a good time.**_

_**RadRheah: Obviously it's fine, because you're texting me back. I need your help with something.**_

_**Galaxa1010: *sighs* Fine, what is it?**_

_**RadRheah: Do you know anyone named Andrew Tassle?**_

_**Galaxa1010: Nope, doesn't sound familiar. Why?**_

_**RadRheah: It's nothing.**_

I should have known Galaxa wouldn't be able to help. Oh, wait. I did.

_**Galaxa1010: Hey did you try the CPCS?**_

_**RadRheah: *gasps* No, I didn't. Thank you!**_

_**Galaxa1010: No problem. Hey, this time I really need to go, Ray. Text me later, okay? XO, Galaxa.**_

I can't believe I was dumb enough to not think of the CPCS, the Capitol Person Communicating System. Basically, it's the way the Capitol keeps track of every one of its citizens. We're allowed to use it as a way to find long lost friends or whatever, for a price of $10 for one search. It's updated yearly, and everyone is required to give their vital statistics to contribute to the search engine.

I find a crumbled ten dollar bill at the bottom of my purse that I was saving and dash downstairs without even changing my clothes. This is an emergency and ten dollars is just a small price to pay.

* * *

I've only used the CPCS once before, with my father when we were trying to get in touch with my old Uncle Kareem, who ended up being dead. But I know the procedure.

"Name?" The guard at door asks.

"Rheah Strikethrough."

"Reason for use of CPCS?"

"I'm trying to find out who this person is," I say, holding up a blank slip of paper. They always ask this question, but never do anything about the response. I wonder if it's only done for survey purposes.

The guard nods and takes my ten dollars, and another guard points me down a hallway leading to controls.

When I reach the main control room, I sit down at a screen and carefully type 'Andrew Tassle' into the full-screen search bar.

Yesterday, after my shift at Elegance, I went home and reviewed the tape some more, but I never got a clear view of Andrew's face since his back was to the camera the entire time. Now I can see his photo clearly, along with other vital statistics.

Andrew has average length blonde hair and blue eyes, but he's definitely a looker. I can see why Carrie likes this guy, even if he's a total jerk and this photo is almost a year old.

_Enough, _I tell myself. _You're here to find out who this guy is, not obsess over his looks._

I pull out my phone and record some needed information: age, address, home phone number, grade, and other stuff that makes me look like a stalker.

The lady working at the screen next to me looks over and whistles. "Ooh, who's that? Your boyfriend?"

I smile sweetly at her. "No, my sister's. I'm trying to make sure he's not cheating on her."

"You're such a good sister," she says, flipping her pink hair and turning back to her screen.

If only she knew the truth.

* * *

About an hour later, I'm standing in front of 1712 Regalia Circle (Andrew's house in Westend), clutching my phone tightly and trying to work up the nerve to ring the doorbell.

This place is huge. When I first arrived, I thought I had the wrong address because this place looks like a hotel. I realize from the sign over the garage that Andrew's family rents out most of this building to tenants and that there are currently no rooms available right now. Well then, I guess it kind of _is_ a hotel.

Two teenagers who are about my age (maybe a little younger, even) answer the door nearly five minutes after I ring the bell. I can hear some arguing coming from behind the door before it opens, but it immediately stops when they see me.

"Who are you?" the girl asks, popping her gum.

The boy, who I'm assuming is her brother, just stares and says nothing.

"I'm looking for someone named Andrew Tassle," I says, unfazed by them.

The boy's eyes widen. "The landlord's son? Oh my gosh. Rheah, she's looking for Andrew!"

"Rheah?" I say. "That's my name."

The girl looks at the boy, then back at me. "It's my name, too. You're looking for Andy?"

"Yes."

Rheah purses her lips, then waves me inside the mansion. "Follow me."

"Are you guys tenants?" I ask after Rheah's brother shuts the door behind me.

"Yes. The rent's cheap, we have pretty spacey rooms, and the landlord's all right. At least, he was," Rheah tells me.

"Was?"

Rheah glances around as someone else, like the other tenants, might overhear, then lowers her voice. "Mr. Tassle and his wife are gone. They left a few days ago. Abandoned the place by Saturday morning. Their son, Andrew; he's gone too."

"Gone? As in, they ran away?"

"That's what we think," Rheah nods. "Me and my brother, Mo. We're the only people left here. Everyone else was scared the place was going to be bombed or something, so they left. But we have nowhere else to go."

"Then why did the sign out there say that there weren't any rooms left?"

Rheah sighs. "We put that up so no one would disturb us. Or toss us in a home."

"Where are your parents?" I wonder. I'm a bit concerned that two teenagers are alone in a huge mansion, even if they probably are old enough to be.

"Our mother's dead. Father abandoned us a couple of years ago after her death. He's a crazy old drunk, that man," Rheah looks mad, and I know I hit a sensitive subject.

Well, I've reached a dead end. Not only do I not know where Andrew and his parents are, I'm left to keep the secret of two broken down, abandoned teens.

"You won't tell anyone we're here alone, will you?" she asks, as if reading my thoughts. "The Capitol will send us to a home or something, or even back to school."

"You're turning eighteen in a few months," Mo reminds her. "And I'm almost nineteen."

"So?" Rheah challenges. "I'm positive they'll find some way to keep us from living freely. We have almost no education, no money, nothing. We're dead."

I hesitate, wondering if I should help or betray Rheah and her brother. They don't look their age; Rheah looks sixteen, maximum, and Mo looks my age. I can't believe they're both living alone. Maybe I can help them, if they can help me.

"I won't," I promise. "As long as you do something for me."

"Anything." Rheah looks desperate.

"Help me find Andrew. Help me as best as you can to find him."

Rheah raises her eyebrows. "That's an odd request. Why?"

I shake my head and sigh deeply, then pour out my entire story. I make sure to leave nothing out, including Waldo, Elegance, and the CPCS.

When I'm done, Rheah just looks at me. "So you're a rich girl. You're father is Gamemaker, you work at Elegance, you go to parties. What don't you have?"

"My sister," I tell her flatly. "I don't have my sister and I want her back."

"So let me get this straight. You think that your sister Carrie ran away with Andrew, all because of a smoothie shop surveillance tape and a list of contacts on her computer?"

"Yes, and coming here only confirms it!" I yell. "Do you have _any_ idea where they could be by now? Partying somewhere in District 2 or mining coal in District 12. There's also the possibility they could be dead!"

Rheah softens. "Okay, I'll help you. I know what it's like to lose someone. Mo and I both do. We'll find her."

"Thank you," I murmur quietly.

Suddenly, Rheah's brother, Mo, speaks from the other end of the couch. Other than letting me know that Rheah's seventeen and he's eighteen, he's been silent this whole time, only offering small nods and pitiful looks.

"Hey, what did you say your sister's name is again?" he asks.

"Carolina Strikethrough," I answer. "Why?"

Mo tilts his head in thought. "Carrie?"

My heart leaps with anticipation. "Yes, that's her. What is it?"

Mo snaps his fingers an stands up abruptly, pointing upstairs. "Follow me."

* * *

"I know it's around here somewhere," Mo says, scanning through a long list of files. "I just saw it a few days ago."

Rheah snorts. "This is hopeless, Mo-Mo. Just give it up."

"No!" Mo shouts. "I know it's here!"

Not wanting to get in a the middle of a sibling argument, I take a seat on Andrew's bed. For the past fifteen minutes, Mo has been searching for a certain document that he's positive has Carrie's name on it. He says he saw it one day while 'borrowing' Andrew's laptop to surf the web. Mo admits to 'borrowing' a lot of stuff from Andrew, especially now that he's gone.

"Are you sure about this?" I lounge on a dark blue pillow while shaking my head.

"I'm positive," Mo replies. "I think it was some kind of letter or something."

Rheah groans. "We don't have time for this. If you don't fine it soon, we're leaving."

"What kind of freak would just leave up a personal file on a computer before running away?" I muse. "If that's what really happened. Wouldn't he know that anyone can read these now?"

"Maybe's the file's deleted," Rheah suggests.

"I found it!" Mo shrieks, double-clicking an icon on the screen. "Here it is, guys. 'Letter to Snow'. One of the tags is 'Carrie'."

I lean over Mo at the laptop display and begin to read. I read the letter twice in case I read it incorrectly, then stare at Mo and Rheah in disbelief.

"Is this for real?" I blurt out.

Rheah shakes her head. "Is this _guy_ for real?"

"What an idiot," Mo says, almost pitifully. "You know, I actually had respect for Andy, since he was the landlord's son and he really seemed like a nice kid, but that's all gone now."

"What kind of freak sends a letter to President Snow, complaining about the Games?" I yell. "That's, like, suicide!"

"What's so wrong about the Games in the first place?" Rheah pops her gum again. "The districts totally deserve it for rebelling."

"Totally," Mo agrees.

"And, if that's not enough, this Andrew guy actually got Carrie to agree with him and sign this letter!" I scream. "He's a goner, for sure."

Rheah sighs. "I have to admit it, Rheah, at first I didn't believe you all the way, but now I get it. Andrew is messed up in the head, and now's he's corrupted your sister. Carrie."

My eyes fill with angry tears as I theorize another idea. "Or maybe she didn't need corrupting at all. Maybe she agrees with all this in the first place."

"No," Rheah says. "If your sister is anything like you, I know this is not her fault. We'll find her."

"Yes," Mo says, clicking Andrew's laptop shut with finality. "We'll find them both."

* * *

**A/N: Please don't hate the 'twin' Rheahs and Mo just because they think the Games are fine. Remember that they've been brainwashed since birth to believe that the Games are just a normal part of life.**

**And also, yay! It's a long chapter! I had to make it long because the last chapter in Rheah's POV was super short and I wanted to introduce some new characters. :)**


	14. Chapter 14: Andrew

**A/N: Bonjour to all! I'm so sorry for making you wait months for this update! School, babysitting, clubs, volunteering - I'm really busy. But I hope you enjoy the latest installment in Carrie's (and Andrew's) life.**

**Oh, and I know that in Mockingjay, we find out that the Avox girl's real name is Lavinia, but don't worry. It'll all work out in time, trust me. :)**

Chapter 14: Andrew

One thing I have to admire about Carrie greatly is the fact that she's full of surprises. That, and her unbelievable need to help others. But today, I'm grinning from ear to ear when I see what she's done this time.

"You made fried chicken?"

Carrie laughs her melodious laugh. "Well, it's not exactly Capitol-worthy or anything like that, but I figured I could give it a shot."

"This is amazing," I murmur, staring at the piece of greasy meat in my hands.

"It's that same bird we ate a couple of days ago," Carrie says. "You know, the one you shot that tastes like chicken?"

"Oh, yeah," I remember. "So what'd you do? Shoot some more and cook them over a fire?"

Carrie grimaces. "I broke two arrows in the process, but it was worth it, right?"

"Definitely," I answer, wiping my mouth. "Love the touch of spices."

Carrie grins and bites her piece of fried 'chicken'. "Well, you were complaining a while ago that you're missing the food in the Capitol and to be honest, so am I. So this was the result, I guess."

"If you can cook like this for the rest of journey, you don't have to help me hunt anymore," I tell her.

Carrie's eyes light up. "You mean it?"

I shrug. "Yeah. This is great."

She stands up suddenly and jumps in the air gleefully. "Thank you!"

"Um, you're welcome? You must really hate hunting don't you?" I say teasingly.

Carrie nods excessively. "Yes. But you don't, so it all works out perfectly."

I think over this statement a few times, then agree. "Yes. Perfectly."

* * *

We decide to enter District 5 differently than we entered the other districts. After circling the perimeter of the district for a while, we conclusively find a long line of steel boards reaching deep into the district and trailing in the opposite end into the mysterious woods.

"Train tracks," Carrie says in a whisper.

I growl to myself. "How stupid we've been! Of course they'll have train stations here. They need a way to transport traded goods and tributes to the Capitol. They can't use hovercrafts like us."

Carrie looks stressed. "We could've avoided crawling under fences and sneaking up trees!"

"No time to regret what we could've done," I say. "Let's go."

"Wait," Carrie says, grabbing my arm and lowering her voice to a whisper. "There could be guards, Andy."

Sure enough, when we peer around the corner though a tangled patch of bushes, we see a Peacekeeper in white uniform standing at the fence, staring off into the woods.

"Great," I hiss sarcastically. "What are we going to do now?"

"We need some kind of distraction, Andy," Carrie whispers. "Do you have any guns on you?"

I look at her like she has a certain illness. "Carrie! Really?"

She remains serious. "Okay, do you have a piece of paper and a pencil?"

I dig through my bag and hand them to her when I find them. "Yes, but -"

"Just wait," she says, scribbling something and running up to a nearby tree. "Keep watch on the ground."

"All right." Didn't give me much of a choice did you, Carrie. I'm still very confused over what she's doing, but whatever.

When she reaches the highest branch she can climb to without breaking it, she squints at the Peacekeeper on the ground and aims the note towards him. I widen my eyes as I realize what she's doing. No!

The note lands directly on his balding head. He seems understandably startled as he looks around for the source, but Carrie is so well hidden in the tree that I myself can barely see her. He opens the note, reads it slowly, then screams as he runs into the district as if a rabid squirrel is brutally chasing him.

I'm unable to keep the shocked look off of my face as Carrie climbs down the tree, looking highly pleased.

"What the hell did you write on that tiny piece of paper?"

Carrie's eyes twinkle. "Oh, nothing. Just a little note saying I know what he did last night, and I was kind of wondering when he was planning on telling me."

"Wow," I say, still unable to say anything else.

"Now come on, before he comes back here!" she warns, pulling me along. "We still need to explore this place!"

* * *

Carrie and I find ourselves in the little sweet shop in District 5's square. We're admiring all the pieces of candy shaped like flowers and smiley faces, as well as the brightly colored atmosphere of the store in general. It reminds me of home.

We've already purchased a small bag of peppermints and we're about to leave when someone bursts into the store, screaming something about trouble.

"Sari!" the girl shrieks, running straight for Carrie. "Oh my goodness, Sari, did you see that?"

Carrie looks slightly awed. "Sari?"

The girl looks up at Carrie, then turns as red as her hair. "Oh my, I'm so sorry. You look just like my older sister Sari! Just like her, I swear!"

"Really?" Carrie looks surprised. She's probably never been told she looks like another person before.

"Oh, yeah," I interrupt, before more confusion can issue. "You both look like sisters."

The girl and Carrie at each other and then at a mirror on the wall. It's true. They look exactly alike. Same dark red hair, same pale ivory skin. Carrie could easily pass for this girl's older sister, Sari. They look more alike than Carrie and her sister back home, Rheah, do.

The Carrie look-alike laughs and turns back to me, extending her hand. "I'm Sallie. You?"

"I'm Carrie," Carrie quickly interrupts before I can answer with a fake name. "This is Andrew. Nice to meet you, Sallie."

When Sallie's back is turned, I give Carrie a face. Why did she reveal our real names? In return she slices a finger under her chin, inaudibly letting me know that fake names would only get us in trouble later.

"So, Sallie," I say to break more ice. "What were you screaming about a minute ago?"

Sallie's face lights up as she drags me and Carrie out of the shop and into the streets. "You have to see this."

A crowd is already gathering in the square. The Peacekeeper that Carrie scared with the note is in the center, arguing stridently with another Peacekeeper. The second Peacekeeper is holding Carrie's note and screaming back at the first. I can hear cries of "How could you?" and "You are so going to be fired after this, Shay!" and even, "Oh my President Snow, this can't be happening".

Carrie covers her open mouth with both hands, trying to hold back a combination of a scream and laughter. I don't even bother to try.

"What is going _on_?" I ask Sallie.

"The details are still pretty fuzzy, but apparently Shay was messing around with one on Head Peacekeeper Tariff's daughters last night and it's finally gotten out to the general public." Sallie clicks her tongue and shakes her head with something that reminds me of a hiccup. "I can't believe it. I actually thought that Shay could be trusted. What a bastard!"

Shay is now down on his knees, probably begging for his job stability. A young woman who must be Head Peacekeeper Tariff's daughter, is next to the second Peacekeeper and is trying to ask Shay to be forgiven.

I look over at Carrie in pure horror. _Look at what we've done!_ Carrie doesn't blink an eye, though. In fact, her growing smile implies just the opposite: she's approvingly enjoying this.

I, on the other hand, think that this is the most embarrassing thing ever. Sallie has turned her nose up, waves a slight good-bye to us, and goes off toward the other side of the district, probably to find her sister. Her sleek red hair darts around the crowd and I watch as she's gone within seconds.

This place is weird.

* * *

Later that night, Carrie and I are sitting around our latest camp, not risking a fire this late, even though our proximity to District 5 probably won't raise any red flags for the Capitol. Carrie reaches into the bag of candy and slowly chews on a licorice as I ponder our next move.

"It's not entirely our fault," she tells me. "If it weren't true, he wouldn't have reacted the way he did and almost lose his job."

My mind snaps back to what happened to Shay in the square and I shudder. I can still clearly see him on his knees begging for forgiveness.

I sigh. "It's at least partially our fault. If we weren't delinquents before, we are now. We made a Peacekeeper's reputation go down the garage chute."

Carrie swallows her piece of licorice and looks over at me like I just said that I was really President Snow in disguise. "No way, Andy. We just made his life a little more . . . well, I don't know. Interesting."

We laugh and fall asleep to the sounds of crickets chirping and the sight of fading sunlight.

* * *

**A/N: If you didn't realize it; Sallie = Foxface. :)**

**Stay tuned, loyal readers! I'm already at work on the next chapter.**


End file.
